I'm Climbing Out of the Abyss, Can You Spare a Helping Hand?
by dhauren
Summary: Bucky Barnes is rescued from the coldness of the Winter Soldier, and slowly comes back to himself. Steve Rogers is there to support him the whole way, but will a shady enemy from the past rip Bucky away before he can heal? Will Bucky ever be able to have a normal life again?
1. Chapter 1

So, I had this posted in short separate little story arcs, mostly on the crossover section, but I decided to put everything together, and post it under the Captain America section. I hope you enjoy! It contains multiple POVs.

Read at your own risk! This story contains references to torture and killing, has sexy times, and a F/M/M threesome (eventually).

For those who don't know, Darcy (Lewis) is the intern of Thor's girlfriend, Jane Foster.

Don't own it. Any mistakes are my own.

* * *

Steve Rogers didn't consider Nick Fury to be his friend. He didn't even really like or respect the man just based on the manipulations and lies the S.H.I.E.L.D director had already spun his way. But that didn't mean that an assassination attempt on Fury's life could go unanswered. The fact that the unknown assassin was bold enough to make his move in broad daylight required an immediate and unflinching response from Captain America.

Natasha was an unexpected source of immediate information. There was something off about the redhead, something Steve couldn't immediately pinpoint, but he couldn't spare the time for investigation right now.

"What do you know?" he asked her.

Natasha stared stonily at the display screen on the wall behind him. "They call him the Winter Soldier. He is…enhanced. I suspect they used a subpar variation of the super soldier serum. He is…cold. Ruthless. Relentless. A programmed killing machine."

"Programmed?" Steve was quick to ask. "It's a machine?"

The redheaded S.H.I.E.L.D agent blinked, and turned her head to focus her emotionless attention on him. "He's a man. But he's been conditioned to be an unreasoning killer. He does what he is ordered to do."

Steve continued to suit up. The shaky video of the assassination attempt was running on a loop on the display screen on the wall. The assassin's actions were highly disturbing. He stepped very calmly into a street, right into the path of Fury's oncoming vehicle, and fired his weapon. The explosive device skipped off the road and planted itself on the bottom of the SUV, blowing it over onto its roof. The assassin calmly stepped to one side, the vehicle missing him by inches. Had Fury not been traveling with a full escort of S.H.I.E.L.D agent, he would likely be dead now.

"How good is he?" he asked.

Natasha Romanoff's direct gaze was disconcerting on the best of days, and right now it sent a sucker punch to Steve's stomach. "At least as good as I am, maybe better. He was one of my trainers."

Steve's head snapped up. Ah. That explained the feeling he'd had that something was off about her. "Are you…okay…with this?"

She rarely showed emotion, and he'd never seen her look rattled, not even in the middle of the Chitauri invasion, but Steve could see she was a little twitchy right now. "No Cap, I'm not. He is a weakness of mine, and I don't have many of those. I was taught to eliminate weaknesses, but him…I couldn't. I don't trust myself around him, because there are so many strong emotions tied up in my interactions with him." Natasha lowered her stare to the floor. "You'll try to bring him in. I don't think you'll be able to. I think you'll have to kill him. And I'm not sure how I really feel about that."

Steve pulled on a glove. "We need to find out who's controlling him. He has valuable intel. I _will_ bring him in."

He watched the redhead's hands clench into fists. "You'll try, Cap. Don't be surprised if it doesn't work."

The first attempt to bring in the Winter Soldier did not go well. Steve was flown into the city block where the assassin was holed up, with numerous S.H.I.E.L.D agents holding a perimeter to prevent his escape. It seemed the assassin had another agenda, because as soon as Captain America made his appearance, the Winter Soldier came out of hiding and launched a vicious attack.

The mask that hid the man's face also helped to cloak his intentions. Steve couldn't anticipate his attacks, and the assassin's speed was challenging. He was barely able to fend off the Winter Soldier's knife slashes, and the assassin showed no signs of tiring.

A hail of bullets broke up their little battle. The assassin dove to one side, coming to his feet smoothly behind a parked car, one arm raised, index finger pointing in accusation. Steve turned his head to see Natasha, guns in hands, face twisted in some kind of wrenching emotion. She had a clear shot at the Winter Soldier, but did not take it.

The assassin stared at her for a moment, finger still pointing at the redhead, then he whipped an explosive disk into the ground between himself and the others. Steve reacted instantly, pulling Natasha back, and holding his shield up to protect them both. The explosion was stronger than anticipated though, and blew both of them backwards.

Steve picked himself up, ears ringing, and watched in disgust as the assassin made his escape, easily cutting his way through the S.H.I.E.L.D perimeter. The Winter Soldier had wanted a confrontation, he realized. Taunting them with how easily he could destroy them.

Natasha was unconscious, lying crumpled beside the building she had been tossed into. Steve knelt to check her pulse, reassured when he felt her heart's strong beat. He scooped up the redhead and carried her out of the blast zone. A S.H.I.E.L.D medic hurried forward to check on the unconscious Black Widow.

Steve wasn't expecting to be ambushed when he finally returned home after a lengthy debriefing. He pushed open his apartment door and had only seconds to react as something launched itself at him.

"Are you okay?"

He allowed Darcy to wrap herself around him, sinking into the comfort of her arms, burying his face into her hair. "I'm fine," he assured.

She fisted her hands into his shirt. "I watched, on TV. He's strong, whoever he is. And fast. He's not normal."

"No," Steve agreed, voice muffled. He tightened his arms around her. "He wanted to fight me. It was a setup."

"Why?" his girl asked, pressing her face into his chest.

That was the real question, wasn't it? "I don't know," he admitted heavily. "But whatever the reason, this has just begun."

The Winter Soldier struck again a week later. Steve was with Natasha at one of the regional S.H.I.E.L.D offices, going over a ton of intel that Clint had sent from his current mission. The Hawk was currently the bodyguard of a bored arms dealer's mistress. Apparently, she liked men with strong arms, and had a penchant for pillow talk, so Clint had an overabundance of inside information.

Agent Sitwell, who had stepped into the shoes left vacant by Coulson's death, was ready to pull Hawkeye and send S.H.I.E.L.D in to take the arms dealer into custody. Clint believed there was more intel to be had, and Natasha agreed with her partner. Steve didn't have strong feelings either way, but trusted Clint and Natasha more than Sitwell, who wasn't quite capable of filling Coulson's shoes.

The discussion was becoming heated when Sitwell dropped to the floor with a yell. Natasha reacted instantly, guns drawn as she dropped into a crouch, eyes scanning the whole office. Steve saw it at the same time as she did – the spider-webbed bullet hole in the nearest window. That was all they had time before the window shattered inward, and a black clad body followed.

Steve barely had time to reassure himself that Sitwell had a clean gunshot wound in the shoulder before he was swinging into action, diving forward to catch the knife strike meant for Natasha on his shield. For one brief second he met the intensely cold eyes of the assassin, rimmed in shadowed skin above his black mask. The depth of madness in those eyes was chilling.

Then reinforcements were pouring into the room. Steve yanked his head out of way of a particularly nasty knife slash, and watched the assassin jump back out the window he had come in, and race across the roof in a diagonal line toward the edge.

"No!" he decided. Shield held in front of him, he broke through a window on the other side of the office, tumbling in a smooth roll and popping up to his feet.

The Winter Soldier was right at the edge of the roof, about to escape again, and Steve hurled his shield to knock the assassin off his feet. Instead, the man turned, impossibly fast, and caught the shield, staring coldly over its surface. His eyes flicked down to look at the shield, and he blinked several times, shook his head as if clearing it, then spun the shield back toward Steve and stepped off the roof.

Steve caught the shield and tucked it under one arm as he sprinted to the roof's edge. The black clad figure was gone, with heads still turned at his passing.

"He's toying with us, with me," Steve told Darcy later that night, after the debriefing. Sitwell had been pissed, and was snapping off orders even as his shoulder was being patched. Word down the line said that Maria Hill was coming to take charge of the manhunt, and Clint had been recalled. There was even rumor of a super-secret S.H.I.E.L.D specialist team being assigned to hunt down the Winter Soldier. When Steve asked about it, Sitwell grew tight lipped and wouldn't say any more.

He closed his eyes as Darcy massaged the knots from his back, straddling his waist as he lay on his stomach on the floor. She had a real talent for soothing sore muscles, and quieting all the negative emotions in his head.

"Why?" she asked softly. "Do you know him?"

Steve opened his mouth to answer, closed it and thought about it. "There's something familiar about his eyes. I don't know, Darcy. How could I know him? I was frozen for 70 years, and I haven't really had too many incursions since I got thawed out that weren't alien or super-powered. But…" Steve paused, thinking about the last moments on the rooftop. The Winter Soldier had almost seemed confused for a moment, as if the shield reminded him of something. "I don't know."

He felt the press of her lips against the back of his neck. "You'll figure it out, Steve. And you'll bring this guy down."

"I need to," he agreed. "Whenever he appears, Natasha freezes. She hasn't been able to act against him, not even to save herself. That's more alarming than anything else that's happened."

Darcy pressed into his back and gave him a squeeze. "Let me take your mind off of it for a while," she offered.

And she did.

Two days after the S.H.I.E.L.D attack, Steve was called in by a somewhat frantic Sitwell. Apparently, there was a situation at the regional office.

Clint had returned, Steve could see as soon as he arrived on site. The archer stood beside Natasha, muscles taut and ready for action. Hill had also arrived. She stood between the two Avenger agents, and a group of people standing outside of a large black plane. Sitwell, arm in a cast, stood beside Hill, looking rapidly between the agents, and the other group.

Steve walked right into the tension, placing himself beside the man and woman who'd fought beside him during the Chitauri invasion. "What's the problem?" he asked softly.

Clint twitched, hands on his bow, hawk gaze fixed on something just over Hill's shoulder. "I don't like to be on the wrong end of a scam job, Cap. And we," he indicated the three of them with a wave, "were scammed good." He turned his glare on Hill. "Was it amusing? Payback for trying to kill you while under Loki's control?"

Maria Hill seemed to deflate a little at his words. "Barton, it was necessary at the time."

Steve watched the bow lift a few inches. "I get that, Maria. But that was almost two years ago."

"Two years of unnecessary guilt!" Natasha snarled. She had her guns trained on the senior agent.

Steve was at a loss. Two years ago dated back to the Chitauri invasion. "What's this about?" he tried in his best Captain voice, trying to pull attention from the tension of the situation, whatever it might be.

Hill glanced behind her, and deflated even more. She seemed about to say something, but just shook her head and stepped to one side.

Steve felt like he'd been punched, again. He stared at the dead man standing in front of the plane and tasted the bitter bile of betrayal. No wonder Clint and Natasha were ready to explode. Especially Clint. The archer had harbored feelings of guilt for two years. It was his actions in freeing Loki from confinement on the helicarrier that had led to the death of his senior officer. Or, so he had thought.

"Captain," Agent Coulson greeted. "I'm sorry that we allowed the deception to go on this long."

Steve swallowed hard. "You know what? Make sure I'm there when Stark finds out. I might be able to keep him from killing Fury." Things clicked in his head suddenly. "You're the specialist team?"

Coulson nodded. "My team has…unique…talents. We might be able to help track down the Winter Soldier." He glanced at Natasha, but looked away. "You'll need all the help you can get with this one."

Steve nodded, swallowing hard again. "Agreed. He's been one or two steps ahead of us since this all started, and he likes toying with us. We need to bring him in and find out his agenda."

Coulson glanced to his right, where a young woman with long dark hair stood, arms crossed as if not impressed at all. "Skye already knows his agenda. That's one of the reasons why we were tapped to help."

Natasha took a step toward the younger woman. Hill and Sitwell immediately shifted to block her advance, and the tension doubled.

"We don't have time for that now," Coulson snapped, though it wasn't clear who he was talking to. "Skye?"

The young woman flinched a little, but then took a deep breath. "His orders are coming from someone named Zola? He's targeting you, Captain."

Steve shook his head, old memories welling up inside him. "That's impossible. Zola is long dead."

The girl shrugged. "Well, whoever is giving the orders is using that name. Pretty vindictive agenda, too. He wants you demoralized and off balance before killed, and S.H.I.E.L.D in crumbled pieces."

At Steve's side, Clint relaxed slightly. "So, business as usual then. Nat and I have your back, Cap. Can't promise much about the rest of the agency. Don't know who to trust anymore."

Steve watched Coulson flinch with that statement. "We have a common cause right now, Agent Barton. Find and detain the Winter Soldier. Find out who's calling the shots."

Clint snorted. "Notice that 'keep Cap from getting killed' isn't on that list."

Coulson ducked his head. "The captain is more than capable of taking care of himself." He turned to the girl Skye again. "Anything else you found?"

She shrugged. "Just something about sending the Soldier after bait? Something the captain couldn't resist?"

Natasha's gasp behind him told Steve that they were probably thinking the same thing. He pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers clumsy in haste as he hit speed dial #1 for Darcy. When she answered on the second ring, relief hit him like a brick.

"Hey you!" she greeted perkily. "What's going on?"

"Where are you?" he asked tersely.

"Hello to you too, handsome. I'm at the Tower with Jane. Stark is a complete head case, did you know that?"

Steve heard Stark's protest in the background, and had to grin, albeit tightly. "Yeah, I know that. Listen, I need you to stay in the Tower until I come for you, okay?"

"Is everything okay, Steve?"

He looked around at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents surrounding him, and wondered if they could keep her safe. "Not really. Let me talk to Stark, Darcy."

He didn't really want to talk to Stark. Not really. But he'd make cozy with Loki if it meant keeping Darcy safe. Right now, Stark was his best chance at that.

"What's up, Capsicle?"

Steve gritted his teeth. It was an automatic reaction to Stark's voice. "Tony. Is Banner there?"

"Yeah? What's going on, Cap? Something to do with that metal arm freak that tried to take out Fury?"

"There's a good chance he'll try to take Darcy, to draw me out. Can you lock down the Tower tight enough to keep him out?"

Stark made a pffing noise over the phone. "Of course I can. Banner as backup?"

"That's what I was hoping for." Steve took a deep breath. "Clint and Natasha are here with me. We're going after him. There's a lot of shit that went down today, Stark, and you're not gonna like it, but I really need your focus to be on keeping Darcy safe right now. Can I count on you for that?"

"Oh Capsicle, you wound me. Of course I will. Jarvis is already on it. No one comes in, and Darcy doesn't go out."

Steve almost grinned, almost, when he heard Darcy's protest in the background. "Thank you. Put Darcy back on, please."

"What's going on?" she snapped at him. "Why is Stark locking me up in the Tower?"

Steve didn't want her to be scared, but he didn't want her in danger, either. "There's a really good chance that the Winter Soldier has orders to grab you, to lure me out. I need to be able to focus on finding him and the ones giving the orders, and I can't do that if I'm worried about you. Stay in the Tower, Darcy. I need you to be safe."

"Oh." Her voice was so small over the phone, and Steve could just picture her wide-eyed expression. "Okay. Just…get this done quick, okay?"

"I plan on it. I'll see you soon."

Hill raised an eyebrow as Steve pocketed his phone. "You're trusting _Stark_ to keep your girlfriend safe?"

Steve gave her a bit of his Captain stare. "It's like Hawkeye said. Don't know who I can trust in this agency. But I do trust Tony Stark, even if I don't like him that much. He'll keep Darcy safe."

Not surprisingly, Coulson took charge of the effort to find the Winter Soldier. He began barking out orders, and for a minute or two, both Hill and Sitwell looked like they were going to protest, but then they just shrugged and went with it.

Coulson's team was a strange mishmash of talent, but they worked well together. Not that Steve would have expected anything less. He could see that it hurt Natasha and Clint. Not only had they been kept out of the loop about Coulson's survival, but now they had to watch him orchestrating a new team of people, when he used to do that with them.

Steve felt next to useless while the S.H.I.E.L.D agents did their magic, and paced anxiously. He was used to action, and this new world of doing everything with computers still confused him.

Clint felt the same way. He waited for action, perched on top of a filing cabinet that put him in his favorite position – high and distant. If his eyes frequently narrowed when watching Coulson' team at work, Steve pretended not to notice. The captain could only imagine the level of betrayal Clint and Natasha felt.

Unlike Clint, Natasha could not be still and wait. She paced in an opposite pattern to Steve's pacing, never ranging far from Clint's high perch. She didn't appear to be watching the others work, and seemed to be completely inside herself, but Steve knew that if he asked her, she could tell him exactly what was going on.

Stark called twice to advise that the Tower's defense system had been activated, and an infiltration attempt thwarted. He sounded almost gleeful as he described the exaggerated taser effect that had been used. It wasn't enough to knock out the attempted intruder, but it had probably hurt like a bitch.

Steve could only chuckle helplessly as he heard Darcy in the background, demanding that her taser be upgraded to match Jarvis's defense protocols. His girl was amazing. He wasn't sure how he had been lucky enough to get her, but he treasured every moment.

Two days in, and Coulson's team was getting closer, but Steve just didn't have the patience for it anymore. He caught Clint's eye, and then Natasha's, and jerked his head toward the door. Their nods were almost imperceptible.

Clint departed first, hopping down from his perch and strolling out like a dark thundercloud. Natasha followed within minutes, silent and unnoticed by all except Coulson. The senior agent's eyes flicked to the door, up to Clint's empty perch, and then to Steve. He sighed softly, then turned back to his work.

Steve made his getaway moments later, and rendezvoused with his Avengers teammates outside the building. "Let's go," he said decisively.

"Where to, Cap?" Clint asked, removing his bow from the case he always carried with him, and slinging the quiver across his back.

Steve shrugged. "He'll find me. Let's take this someplace less populated." He turned to Natasha. "Can you do this?"

She flinched, eyes blinking. "I…I don't know."

"I will, Cap," Clint assured, expression stony. "He doesn't mean anything to me."

The look Natasha turned on him was pure relief that her partner would compensate for her weakness.

Minutes later, they were heading for a less populated area in an SUV that Clint commandeered. Steve felt bare without his shield, but it would have attracted too much attention if he had tried to grab it. Instead, he fidgeted in the back seat of the SUV, like an anxious child.

They didn't make it more than a mile. Steve saw the movement from the corner of his eye barely in time to brace himself as another SUV rammed them. The jolt traveled through his entire body as they slid sideways, Clint spewing curses as he tried to regain control. Then they hit the curb and their SUV flipped, still being pushed by the other vehicle.

Natasha had her guns in hand, firing through the window while hanging upside down from her seatbelt. She must have hit something vital on the other vehicle, because an explosion rocked theirs.

Steve released his seatbelt and dropped free, kicking out the door and rolling clear of the SUV. He popped to his feet, eyes sweeping the scene. The other SUV was in flames, smoke billowing out around it. A black clad form was emerging from the wreckage, clothes smoking. He ripped off the face mask and took a deep, shuddering breath, then straightened.

Steve blinked to clear smoke from his eyes, noting the gun cradled in the assassin's arms. "Stand down," he called. "We can help free you."

"I am free," the assassin responded, gun rising to point at Steve. "You are caged."

That voice…something about it was familiar. Steve blinked again, eyes still tearing from the smoke. In that moment, the Winter Soldier stepped clear of the wreckage, smoke parting, and Steve got his first look at the killer's face.

No.

It wasn't possible.

He must have hit his head when the SUV flipped.

"Bucky?"

The assassin paused, shook his head, and then snarled at Steve. "What?"

Steve felt like a dark hole had opened at his feet and he was falling, falling. "Bucky," he repeated in a weak exhale, eyes mapping the familiar features on the assassin. It wasn't just a similarity, the face was identical, but the expression was all wrong. The expression was cold, dead. Bucky had always been full of life. Even as he had dropped into an icy abyss over 70 years ago.

"You died," he stated, unable to move or think past this moment.

The assassin shook his head again, confusion rippling across that oh so familiar face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You fell." Steve felt like a simpleton, but he couldn't seem to string more than two words together. Dimly, he realized he was in shock for the second time in his life. The first time had happened when Bucky died.

The assassin's eyes narrowed and he frowned. "Stop trying to escape your fate."

"It killed me," Steve admitted, tears blurring his vision. "You were my best friend." He had a sudden revelation. "You recognized the shield. The other night. When you attacked the office."

"Stop talking. It's time for you to die now."

He wilted. "I deserve it. I let you fall."

The assassin twitched, frowning again, blinking his eyes. "Stop talking."

"I don't know how you survived. I don't know how you look the same age as you did when you fell. But I'll find out. Bucky-"

"NO!" The Winter Soldier stepped back, shaking his head violently. The gun dipped toward the ground. "Stop talking!"

Steve advanced one step. "It was Zola. He was experimenting on you."

The man who might possibly be his best friend staggered back another step, face twisted in some kind of macabre mask of confusion, hatred, and fear. "Stop talking!" he almost shrieked. The gun came back up.

Steve nodded slowly. "Schmidt was trying to create the super soldier serum. But it requires a catalyst, and Zola didn't have the time to try that with you. Maybe falling from the train did it." He advanced another step.

"Cap?"

Clint and Natasha were behind him. Steve held up a closed fist for them to hold position. "Stand down," he ordered softly, eyes fixed on his best friend. It _was_ Bucky. It felt right. And that felt a bit like coming home, easing the ache of loneliness he'd been living with since waking up in the 21st century.

He reached out with one hand, palm up, in much the way he'd approach a feral dog. "Bucky," he repeated softly.

"Stay back!" the other man snarled. "Stop talking!"

Steve saw the trembling in Bucky's hands and arms. Was he remembering who he was? Why had he even forgotten?

Natasha's words came back to him: _A programmed killing machine. He's been conditioned to be an unreasoning killer._ Bucky had been overwritten, like a computer program. But as both Tony and Darcy told him, information in a computer that was overwritten or deleted could almost always be retrieved. Programs could be deleted or restored. _Bucky_ could be restored.

"We grew up together," he tried again. "You called me punk. I called you jerk."

His hair was so long, and it rippled as Bucky shook his head in denial. His eyes, the cold, dead eyes of a killing machine, were gone, leaving only confusion. "Stop talking!" he cried, face twisting with an internal struggle.

Steve took another step. "We only had each other. Well, you also had any of the ladies you could sweet talk. But in the end, it was just us."

"Stop!" His voice sounded broken now, and Steve supposed that was accurate. He was breaking the Winter Soldier, so that Bucky Barnes could be rebuilt.

"You followed me." Steve choked a little, remembering that moment when he first started believing in himself. When his best friend told him he'd follow that skinny guy from Brooklyn instead of Captain America. "You believed in me before I believed in myself."

The gun wavered, muzzle dipping to the ground. "That's…" he paused, lost, eyes blinking. "That's what family does. Believes in each other." Then his eyes rolled back into his head, and Bucky toppled back toward the burning vehicle.

Steve darted forward, catching the body of his best friend and pulling him away from the fire. He ripped the gun from Bucky's slack hands, sending it spinning across the road toward Clint and Natasha. Then he dropped to his knees, Bucky's head cradled in his arms, and cried, body shaking until it threatened to tear itself apart.

Suddenly, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know his purpose anymore. Everything had changed.

Natasha dropped to her knees beside him, one hand on Steve's arm, the other reaching out to push the hair back from Bucky's face. "Cap? I don't understand."

"It's Bucky," he choked out in a thick voice. "My best friend."

"The one who died?" Clint asked casually. The archer snorted. "Looks pretty good for a dead man. Fiesty, too."

That surprised a watery laugh from Steve's mouth. "Yeah."

"How did this happen?" Natasha asked.

Steve rocked the unconscious body. "I don't know. But I will find out."

He rose to his feet, Bucky held tight against him. In minutes, his entire life had been reordered, and nothing would ever be the same again.


	2. Chapter 2

"You have to sleep, Cap."

Steve blinked, turning away from the sad site in front of him, and stared down at Natasha. She looked almost as rough as he felt, with dark rings around her eyes. He was pretty sure she hadn't slept either since the Winter Soldier had been brought in.

"I slept for a long time," he told her. "Got more important things to do right now."

He turned back, staring in the observation window. His best friend, the one he thought had died over 70 years ago, was in there, strapped down to an observation table with metal bands. They'd tried regular restraints, but he tore through those quickly.

Bucky hadn't woken as quietly as he had shut down. He had already thrown several S.H.I.E.L.D agents and scientists into walls. Whatever brief moment that had allowed him to remember Steve was gone, but he hadn't returned to his Winter Soldier persona either. Right now he was a feral thing, unable to speak and lashing out at anyone who came near.

It made Steve sick to watch.

"Go home to Darcy," Natasha urged. "Take a night and forget about this."

He shook his head fiercely. "I can't. I left him once, assumed he was dead. He's my best friend. I should have gone back and looked for him."

Her hand on his arm did not bring any comfort. "Why would you have? You were in the middle of a war, Steve. Trying to stop a madman from destroying the world. Your best friend wouldn't have forgiven you if you'd stopped all that just to search for his body."

"But he didn't die!" Steve roared, fist punching down through the nearest console, sending sparks flying. "And every second since he fell, it's been like a knife inside my guts." He shook his head. "Look what happened to him. Because I left him."

"You know that's not how or why it happened. Don't do this to yourself, Steve."

He slumped forward, weight resting on his hands against the outside wall of Bucky's cell. Inside, his best friend's face was twisted in hatred and madness, snarling at those near him. The cybernetic arm was lashed down with no less than six metal restraints, and it was anyone's guess if they would hold. It was extraordinarily strong, he'd been told.

"Tell me more about him, what you know," he asked quietly.

She flinched a little. "I knew him as Yasha. He trained me."

She was very carefully not saying things, he noticed. "Trained you to do what?" Steve asked.

Natasha wilted a little bit. "To kill people. To use every weapon available to me against them. He was the best of the best of what we did."

"Did he have the arm…?"

"Yes. I never asked about it, and he never volunteered."

Still not saying things. "You loved him," Steve stated bluntly.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Love is for children. We were very close. He helped mold me into the Black Widow. We took comfort in each other, but it was not meant to last. He was my teacher, and I always deferred to him, until…something happened. He disappeared for several months. When he came back, Yasha was gone. He was the Winter Soldier. He was programmed to kill me, but I was able to incapacitate him. He was put him into cryostatis then, mostly to heal."

Steve's glance flicked down. Natasha was staring straight ahead, doing her own version of the emotionless operative. "You almost killed him," he guessed.

"I would have killed him," she corrected. "I tried to kill him. But, I could remember the time we spent together, and that compromised my effectiveness."

She sounded almost regretful that she had been unable to kill the Winter Soldier, that emotion had made her less of an effective killing machine, and Steve reflected that no matter what else, at least Bucky hadn't been raised that way.

"I'm sorry, Natasha. That you grew up that way."

She shrugged. "I don't know of any different way." She looked up at him. "The road to recovering your best friend will not be easy. The Red Room's conditioning is…very effective."

Steve swallowed hard. "But it can be done?"

"Of course."

They fell into silence, staring into the containment cell at the raging, crazed man inside. In the three days since Steve had first seen the face of his best friend, he had a little more hope. To have Bucky back…it was like regaining a part of himself that he had thought forever lost. Maybe Steve Rogers could finally feel whole once more.

In another two days, Bucky's rages passed, and he just laid on the observation table in silence. It was almost more painful to watch than the raging had been. The scientists, ringed by armed agents, released the restraints and lowered Bucky to the floor. The cell had been carefully prepared for this moment, with nothing in it that he could hurt himself or others with. After the table was cleared, it was unbolted and removed.

Steve made his first visit, hoping to gain a reaction from his best friend. He had angrily refused any guards, and entered the cell cautiously. Bucky was a silent form on the mattress in the corner.

"Bucky?" he asked softly.

There was no reaction, so he moved closer and dropped into a squat. "Bucky?"

His friend stared at the ceiling without blinking, giving no indication that he knew someone was with him. Steve sat down on the floor and just watched him. Hoping for a reaction of some type. But after another 15 minutes of no response, no reaction, Steve wilted and left the cell. It was too painful.

Natasha arrived to visit later that day. Bucky had not moved from the mattress in the corner since he'd been placed there, but when the redhead S.H.I.E.L.D agent entered his cell, he looked up at her. Steve felt a brief glimmer of hope, but his stomach plummeted toward the ground when Bucky launched himself at Natasha.

For a moment, they were almost beautiful to watch together, so fluid and lethal in their movements. Bucky knew Natasha's moves, even if his mind was chaotic right now, and he was easily able to anticipate what she was going to do in time to effectively counter it. The same held true for Natasha, who easily defended herself. It was the expression on Bucky's face that worried Steve the most. Not the emotionless mask of the Winter Soldier, or the confused look of the man who had been captured, but burgeoning rage. Steve made a hasty gesture to the security detail that was always standing by.

Several S.H.I.E.L.D agents entered the cell and shot Bucky with tasers. One probably wouldn't have been enough to put him down, but four effectively immobilized him, twitching, on the cell floor. Natasha's expression was grim as she emerged from the cell.

"That did not go well," she told Steve, smoothing her uniform. "Perhaps he holds a grudge from our last meeting before cryo?"

Steve blinked thoughtfully. "Maybe. Maybe we should try again tomorrow. Give him time to settle down."

He had already decided to not be involved in any attempts to restrain Bucky. He didn't want Bucky's shadowed mind to look at him that way. As an enforcer.

After three more disastrous attempts at visiting in the next few days, Natasha made the decision that she would not return. "I am not helping his recovery." She cocked her head to one side as she looked up at Steve. "You look terrible. Go home to Darcy."

He shook his head. "You know that I can't. I have to be here for him."

Steve was adamant about not leaving. He didn't want Bucky to be alone, even if there were walls and windows between them. He went into the cell every day, with mixed reactions from its occupant. Some days, Bucky didn't stir at all, or acknowledge his presence. One day, he cowered in the corner of his cell, arms over his head, making a keening, wounded animal noise. The worst day was the day Bucky stalked him.

Steve entered the cell, and there was a corresponding movement from its occupant, stealthily sliding a few steps backward. He was on high alert immediately, balance shifting to the balls of his feet, eyes glued to the shadowed features of his best friend. The long dark hair was hiding Bucky's face, but the movements of his body were those of a predator.

"I don't want to do this with you," Steve told him. "I'm not your enemy. I'm your best friend."

Bucky made a low sound, but it sounded like a sarcastic snort of derision. He slid a step to Steve's right, trying to circle behind him in the small space. Steve pivoted to keep him right in front, watching his movements, anticipating an attack, but it never came. Bucky couldn't gain an advantage, so there was no point to a frontal assault. Or, that's what Steve figured he was thinking.

It was exhausting, and Steve gave up after ten minutes of turning in a constant circle. He cautiously backed out of the cell, eyes never leaving the lethal form of his best friend.

"That was tense," a familiar and unwelcome voice sounded behind him when the cell door closed.

Steve closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, then turned smoothly and opened his eyes. "Stark."

The billionaire grinned cockily. "Capsicle. I'm hurt. I protected your girl, and didn't get a thank you. You didn't call, you didn't stop by, and here I find you cheating on her with a guy! Didn't know you rolled that way, Cap."

Steve hadn't had more than 30 minutes of sleep at a time in almost two weeks. "I'm not in the mood for this, Stark. Why are you here?"

Tony Stark grinned. "Got a text from Barton, said there was something here I needed to see. I'm trying to figure out why he wanted me to see you spinning in a circle in a cell with the crazy guy."

"That's not what he wanted you to see, Mr. Stark."

Tony Stark was annoying, volatile, and didn't interact well with others. Still, Steve actually felt sorry for him when the billionaire realized the depths of Fury's manipulations. His expression, that cocky mocking that was so annoying, froze and his eyes went blank. Then he smiled a hard, tight smile, and tipped his head toward Coulson.

"Agent. You look well for a dead man."

Coulson, having just entered the room, inclined his head. "Mr. Stark. I did die, but I didn't stay dead. Director Fury chose to keep that information to himself. Probably a wise decision on his part, since my survival was not guaranteed." Coulson's attention turned to Steve. "Captain. Has there been any progress?"

Steve shrugged. "He hasn't actively tried to kill me yet."

Coulson nodded. "It takes a long time to recover from the programming he's had. It's unfortunate that his reaction to Agent Romanoff has been so…volatile."

Steve nodded absently, but his attention was on Stark, who was standing still with his fists clenched. The billionaire wasn't taking Coulson's 'resurrection' very well.

"Fury still in the hospital?" he asked tightly.

Coulson's gaze was sharp. "Yes, Mr. Stark. The attack by the Winter Soldier nearly killed him."

Stark smiled that hard smile again, the one that didn't reach his eyes. "Probably a good thing. You should stop by and let Pepper know that you're alive, Agent. She cried."

Coulson flinched a little. "I will do that, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry."

"Me too."

Stark turned and didn't quite stomp out. Steve figured he'd worry about it later. Stark would get over it, eventually. Right now, Steve's priority had to be Bucky.

"It was best to get that out of the way," Coulson remarked absently. "Barton will be here shortly, Captain. He said he'd come to keep you company."

Steve's smile felt stretched a little thin. "I look forward to it. Listen, Agent Coulson, I know there have been a lot of bad feelings because we were kept in the dark about your survival, but I think everyone really is happy that you're here."

The other man's mouth quirked up in a grin. "Thank you Captain. It will take some time to repair relationships, but now that I'm 'alive' again, I'll be working on that when not working with my team."

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "They seem like a good bunch."

The smaller man nodded. "They are. Good luck with this, Captain. I know it means a lot to you to get your friend back."

Steve took the opportunity to take a nap. He wasn't sleeping well, haunted by images of Bucky as the Winter Soldier, or as the broken thing he'd become. His subconscious mind could only tolerate so much before it propelled him into waking, and he jerked alert, almost falling off the chair he'd been dozing on.

"Cap, go the hell home to Darcy."

Steve blinked and scrubbed at his eyes. "Barton. Why do people keep telling me that?"

The archer rolled his eyes. "Because you look like crap, and you're making everyone here a little nervous. And Darcy misses you."

That was low, even for Barton. Steve winced. "I have to be here for Bucky. Darcy will understand that."

Barton snorted. "Whatever, Cap. I brought beer." He held up two six packs, prompting a wry smile from Steve.

"I can't get drunk. The serum."

The archer grinned. "I didn't say I brought it for you, Cap."

He was willing to share anyhow, even though it didn't have the desired effect on Steve. Barton's presence was welcome after the stress of the day, and Steve relaxed a little.

"Thanks," he said honestly, as the archer prepared to leave. "I needed some company that wasn't stressful or invested in this."

Barton grinned. "What, Stark is stressful? I figured this was my way to apologize for that. Seriously though, Cap. Take some time and go home to Darcy."

"I'll take it under consideration. Thanks again."

He watched the archer depart, and settled back into a chair to try to nap again. Maybe tomorrow Bucky would be better. He'd take a night to go home when Bucky showed some signs of improvement.


	3. Chapter 3

I'll admit, I have a slight pumpkin spice problem, and that's where this angle to the ongoing series came from. I hope you enjoy. I did.

Don't own it. If I did, I wouldn't be spending time writing stories about it.

The first part of this story is Steve's POV in When Passed My Friend and Left Me Standing Bleakly. It doesn't have to be read to understand this one, but it helps! s/9817842/1/When-Passed-My-Friend-and-Left-Me-Stan ding-Bleakly

* * *

Darcy juggled the two cups of coffee in her hands to dig her S.H.I.E.L.D pass out of the pocket of her jeans. The security guard's eyes were a little too busy watching the way her shirt stretched tight across chest, and she wondered if he knew who she was.

"Hey dude. You're currently oogling Captain America's girlfriend. Consider yourself warned."

She was a little gratified to see his eyes snap back up to her face. "Sorry," he apologized.

She finally worked the pass out of her pocket and clipped it to bottom of her shirt. "Even if I wasn't, it's just not cool to stare like that. It's a dick move. I'm also good friends with Thor. He's like my adopted big brother."

There was definitely a hard swallow on the part of the guard. "I'll…I'll be less of a dick in the future, Miss Lewis."

She grinned at him. "Smart move. Do you know where the captain is? He's been all involved in this super secret project, and I haven't seen him for two weeks. So today, Barton stops in at the lab and drops off this pass, tells me to come find my boyfriend. Do you know what's going on?"

"Above my level, ma'am. But there's some kind of high level prisoner came in two weeks ago, had the whole place in an uproar. Might be the first place to start looking. Subsection C, area 24."

Darcy beamed at him. "You totally redeemed yourself from being a dick…" She dipped to look at his badge. "Bob. Really? Bob?"

He shrugged. "Robert was too formal, and Rob sounds like a wishlist."

Darcy laughed again. "Awesome. See ya later, Bob."

She headed for the elevator, again juggling the coffee. She hadn't even spoken to Steve in the two weeks. He'd sent a couple of very terse texts, which told her he was in the middle of something very classified, and she was willing to bet that the high level prisoner was the metal armed fuck who'd been toying with him. There's been shaky video uploaded to the internet of a car accident, and the Natasha's red hair had been a dead giveaway. Plus, Stark had released her from the Tower. He wouldn't have done that unless he'd gotten the all clear from Steve.

Something bad had happened, and Darcy needed to know what it was. She wanted her boyfriend back.

She received a few strange looks as she headed for Area 24 once off the elevator, but she had the S.H.I.E.L.D badge clipped to her shirt, so no one questioned her. The S.H.I.E.L.D office was decidedly unfriendly in appearance and feel, and she was glad that Tony Stark had rescued Jane from them.

Area 24 was a lab type area, she saw as she entered it. The main focus was in the center of the large hangar type room, and that was a brick walled area surrounded by viewing ports and computer consoles. Toward the back of the area, she saw Steve talking with a lab coated scientist, and headed toward him.

The cries of alarm that erupted from some of the S.H.I.E.L.D employees brought Darcy to a halt, eyes widening. She saw Steve's head snap up, looking through one of the viewing ports in alarm, and winced as a man exploded out of one, arms up to shield his face. He tumbled smoothly to the floor and came to his feet already running.

S.H.I.E.L.D agents moved to intercept him, but the long haired man, wearing green hospital scrubs, easily tossed them aside as he ran toward the exit. Toward Darcy.

She was frozen and couldn't move, not even when Steve saw her and cried out a warning. He was also chanting something that sounded like 'fuck' but that wasn't quite it.

The prisoner skidded to a halt within arm's length of Darcy. He had crazy eyes, face twisted and desperate. His hands were held low in front of him, ready to rip or destroy. Judging by the way everyone froze, she was in mortal danger right now.

Darcy had seen enough internet pictures of the Winter Soldier to recognize him, even without the tactical clothes, but this man didn't look like a cold blooded killing machine. He looked crazed and confused.

She did the only thing she could think of, thrusting one of the Styrofoam coffee cups out at him. "Coffee?" she squeaked, eyes fixed on the twisted face in front of her. The eyes narrowed and glanced down at the cup, then looked back up at her. "It's like the lifeblood of the universe," she cajoled, shaking the cup slightly so its contents sloshed.

She ignored Steve's strangled "What are you doing?" from behind the prisoner, and pulled the coffee cup back to take a long audible sniff..

"Yummy stuff. Seriously. Pumpkin spice latte. Limited edition."

A small corner of her mind wondered what she was doing, but those crazy eyes were calling to her. Even more so than Erik Selvig after Loki had scrambled his brain, this man's eyes were like windows to hell. She reached out with the coffee cup again. "Good stuff," she encouraged.

Like a wild animal, he moved a half step closer, eyes focused on the coffee cup being offered. Parts of his face twitched spasmodically, and he blinked several times.

Behind her, Darcy could hear booted footsteps and the man in front of her tensed, dropping into an alert crouch. She heard Steve hiss orders at the other agents to stand down, and the Winter Soldier relaxed slightly, but didn't rise from his crouch. So Darcy slowly and carefully folded herself down into a cross legged seated position, coffee cup still held out in front of her. Wild animals always felt more threatened if something or someone was looming over them, so she figured the same thing probably held true for the man with the crazy eyes.

"So you know, when your boyfriend spends two weeks not seeing you, you start thinking that maybe there's another woman or something, right?" Darcy did her best to appear completely harmless, not looking at the nearby train wreck of a man. "Imagine my surprise when I found out that it's another man who's taken up all his time. Kinda hard on a girl's self-esteem, you know? I mean, despite my awesome charms, Thor completely fell for Jane. And that's cool and all, good for her, right? Then I get my own blond hunk of loving, and that's just awesome. But now? Now he's cheating on me with a long haired brunette with cheek stubble."

It wasn't her imagination that one corner of the escapee's mouth twitched upward, and for a second, he seemed to really be looking at her and seeing her. Then the madness swirled back in, and whatever had been there was swept away.

"Darce." Steve's voice was low and apologetic. He was inching closer, trying to appear as harmless as possible, but Darcy could see the tensing of the wild man in front of her.

"Uh uh," she chastised softly. "You stay right where you are, Rogers. I'll deal with you a little later." Her gaze moved to the man in front of her. "Hey you. With the long hair. Rock star. My arm is getting really tired holding this coffee out to you. I have terrible upper body strength. You gonna drink this? It's really awesome stuff."

Crazy eyes met hers, swept around the area behind her, then slid back to her. With a soft sigh, he dropped to his butt on the floor in front of her, and his real hand reached out to take the coffee from hers.

Darcy lowered her arm, watching as he drew the coffee cup to his mouth, and took a sip. It was probably too sweet, but Steve did like sweet stuff, so she always had his made as sweet as hers. He completely deserved to lose his coffee for staying away from her for two weeks.

She wiggled her arm to shake it out and dropped it to her side. "Good, right?"

Her new coffee buddy didn't say anything, but kept sipping, eyes now closed.

Her butt was numb by the time crazy guy was done, even though it really didn't take that long. But since she was sitting on a concrete floor, it didn't take long. The funny thing was that no one moved. The S.H.I.E.L.D agents had frozen in place, and even Steve hadn't moved. He was just watching cautiously.

When a hand extended, rather demandingly, Darcy snorted. "You want mine too? I gave you Steve's coffee, because it's the least he deserves after abandoning me for you, right? But you want my coffee now?"

The fingers flexed a little. "Are you making grabby hands at me?" Darcy asked. "I had to wait in line for like ten minutes to get these coffees. I didn't even get to take a sip."

The crazy eyes opened, and the fingers flexed again. Darcy heaved a huge sigh. "Fine. You look like you need it more than me anyhow." She delivered the coffee cup into the waiting hand and then just sat there, watching as he sipped the other coffee. "Dude, you're going to be bouncing off the walls for the rest of the night. Hehehe. Sorry S.H.I.E.L.D agents and scientists. I'm sugaring him up and giving him back to you." She tilted her head to one side. "I'm bad like that, sorry. Hey Rock Star! You gonna go quietly back to your current 'room' now? I'm sure they're trying to help you. They have a funny, sometimes shitty, way of going about it, but the good intentions are still there."

Crazy eyes looked at her over the rim of the coffee cup, swept the area behind her, and finally glanced behind him at the other agents gathered. One corner of mouth quirked up into a smile or smirk or something, quickly hidden by the coffee cup.

He was relatively docile after finishing the second cup of coffee, and allowed himself to be surrounded and led back to a different cell. Darcy watched him go, then stood up in time to be swept off her feet.

"Steve," she gasped out. "I can't…I can't breathe, Steve."

He relaxed his hold somewhat, face pressed into her hair. "You were very brave, but that wasn't a smart thing to do," he murmured. "He could have killed you."

Darcy squeezed him tight, but her thoughts couldn't pull feel of the crazy/tortured eyes that had stared back at her. "He just…he really looked like he needed a friend. Are you sure that's the guy who was cold-blooded killing machine?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. He's…it's a long story." He took a step back and wrapped one arm around her, guiding her toward the new holding cell. Inside, the man who was the Winter Soldier was curled up on the floor, shivering.

Darcy's first impulse was to yell that he needed more comfort in his cell, but then she saw the mattress. He had simply chosen not to use it.

"He's not cold," Steve reassured her. "He has reactions like this after something that's considered a breakthrough in his programming."

She stepped back from the viewing port and looked up, finally getting a good look at her man. Steve's eyes were ringed in dark circles, and his face was a little gaunt. Why would he be so affected by what happened a former Russian assassin?

"Talk to me, Steve. What's going on?"

His forehead creased, and for a second, tears shimmered in his eyes. "I don't have a lot of answers yet. But his name is James Buchanan Barnes. He died over 70 years ago. I watched him fall to his death. I couldn't save him."

Darcy cupped his face in her hands, feeling disbelief course through her veins. "That's your best friend Bucky? Are you kidding?"

Steve's head moved from side to side slowly. "No. He…he recognized that he knew me. And when that happened, it overloaded his programming, and…" his voice caught thickly. "He's been like you saw him today since we brought him in. Mostly just prowling around like a wild animal. Today was the first time he tried to break out. Natasha has tried to visit with him, and that apparently makes him go beserk, so she stays away now. His reaction to me hasn't been predictable."

Darcy stepped into his space, sliding her arms around him, feeling the shaking. It was killing him to watch his best friend like this. But was that worse than Barnes staying dead, or not?

When she asked him, Steve shook his head violently. "No! Even if this is all we ever get out of him, I'll take it. At least…at least I have him back."

"And maybe you'll stop having nightmares of him falling," she whispered into his chest.

Steve drew back from her. "I can't ask you to stick around for this. It's going to get worse before it gets better, and it's already been pretty bad. It's not fair to you." He was doing his noble, self-sacrificing captain thing, and it pissed her off.

"You can shovel that shit right out of your ass," she snapped at him, socking him in the arm. "He's your best friend, Steve. And he's been through shit even worse than you, apparently. What kind of girl would I be if I let you push me away just because things were going to get tough?" She balled up her fists and placed them on her hips, daring him to try to dump her.

Steve shook his head. "Darce…this is going to require all of my energy and focus." He ducked his head, eyes staring down at the floor. "He needs me. More than you do."

Darcy swallowed hard. He wasn't wrong, but no one should have to go through this experience by themselves, and she felt invested already. She reached out and took his hands, hating that they were shaking slightly. "He needs all the help he can get. I'll be here for you, so you can be there for him, and I'll do whatever I can to help him." Because those eyes….

Steve slumped. "I don't deserve you," he whispered.

Darcy smiled. "I know. It's more like a punishment than anything else."

* * *

Darcy wasn't expecting to be pulled into the Winter Soldier's rehabilitation, or was it deprogramming? But the next day, she got a phone call from Steve. Apparently Barnes was so agitated he was in danger of hurting himself, and no one could get near him. One of the scientists had a crazy idea, so an hour after that, she was riding the elevator down to Subsection C, with two pumpkin spice lattes in hand. Well, okay, she actually had a carrier with four, because she wanted one, and Steve should have one too, but the other two were for Mr. Grumpy.

Poor Steve looked pretty rough when she got there, with his hair sticking up at odd angles, and a weary expression that was in every line of his body.

"That bad?" Darcy asked softly, handing him a coffee.

Steve sipped gratefully. "Yeah." He blinked slowly. "I asked Barton if this is what Natasha went through, because she was part of the same Russian spy group. Barton said it wasn't anything like this though. Natasha was raised to be an assassin. Bucky…I don't want to know what they did, but they tore him apart and remade him into the Winter Soldier. So it's much, much worse."

Barnes had heard her arrival, apparently, because he stopped tearing around his cell. Darcy was waved over hurriedly, and peered in the viewing port, only to jerk back in surprise when she looked right into the crazy eyes. He was peering out, and when he saw her, his hands came up, fingers flexing.

Darcy almost laughed. "You got grabby hands again, Barnes."

He frowned. She noticed, but she had decided on the way here that she wasn't going to call him James (as Natasha did), and she hadn't met the part of him that was Bucky, so she couldn't call him that, and Winter Soldier was completely out of the question. So he was Barnes.

Darcy was a little nervous by the four S.H.I.E.L.D agents flanking her when the cell door opened. But Barnes stood a safe distance back from it, focused on the coffee cups in her hands. She made a decision then, and stepped into the cell with him, ignoring the strangled noise that probably came from Steve. She folded herself down to sit on the mattress that was on the floor, and seconds later, the mattress dipped beside her.

She didn't look at him. "Heard you been cutting up today, Barnes. You gonna behave while I'm in here?"

She could see grabby hands beside her, the real one and the cybernetic one, so she lifted one of the coffees out of the carrier and handed it over. She took one, and sat the carrier down on the floor between them.

"I'm drinking this one," she warned him. "Don't be greedy, okay? I brought you two."

He didn't say anything, but had both hands wrapped around the coffee cup, sipping.

"Meet any of the others yet?" she inquired. "Well, yeah, I guess you have. But what about Thor? Have you met Thor yet? He's the God of Thunder. Cool guy. Good for eye candy. I tased him once."

She was aware of his eyes looking at her, and hid a smile. "He was crashing around the desert, all 'Hammer!' and stuff. He freaked me out, so I tased him. That was after Jane hit him with the van. Thor's pretty tough though, so it just knocked him out for a little. It was really hard getting him up into the van. He's heavy. But he looks on me like a little sister now. You know, cuz I took care of Jane after he left. He promised to come back, but he didn't. Not for two years. He had a good excuse though, so Jane only slapped him a few times."

He didn't say a word, just sipped and listened as she rambled, telling him about things in her life, or just aimlessly speaking. It was hard to imagine this was the same guy that had terrorized everyone for most of the day. He was so calm right now. Almost, but not quite at peace. She could still feel tense awareness in him, but not anything close to the hyper activity she'd been called in to help calm.

"You can pretend it's the coffee all you want to, Barnes," she told him at one point. "But I know it's just my awesome self you wanted to see again."

When he finished the second coffee, he actually placed the empty cup back in the carrier. They just sat in silence for a long time. Darcy looked around curiously, not liking what she saw but understanding the reason for it. There was no bed frame, probably because it could be disassembled and used as a weapon. There was a plastic toilet that wasn't attached to any kind of plumbing. It had a water tank on the back, and a dump pedal at the base. She guessed that there was a small hole in the floor under it where waste would be dumped. Nothing big enough to escape through, and no pipes that could be used as weapons. The toilet itself could be used, but it was plastic so wouldn't do too much damage.

"Are they protecting you from yourself, or protecting themselves from you?" she wondered.

There was a quiet snort beside her, and she considered that an accomplishment.

An intercom somewhere in the cell flickered to life, and someone was telling her to come out. Darcy started to rise, but stopped when a metal hand moved to rest on her knee. Not hard, not actually restraining her, but just a quiet request. He wasn't looking at her, staring straight ahead at the wall, lines of his jaw just as impossible as Steve's.

"Not right now," she called to the wall. Then she turned to look at the supposedly broken man beside her. "I'm not having sex with you, Barnes. Just because I'm sitting on your mattress in your room…well, that doesn't mean a thing. Besides, Steve and I are together, and I'm sure he wouldn't like that at all. Plus, not into exhibitionism, and there's people watching, so no."

He turned those haunted eyes on her, and she could see the slightest undercurrent of mirth in them. He found her funny. Good.

She lost track of how long she stayed, but finally had to get up to leave. That coffee had run through her, and she was not using the dump toilet in the corner. Barnes didn't try to stop her this time.

"I'll be back tomorrow," she told him. "So no tearing the place up, okay? Don't think I didn't see all those dents in the wall."

He seemed to be lost inside himself, and didn't look up at her or react. Darcy scooped to pick up the coffee carrier and empty cups, and then stepped over to the door. A half circle of agents, guns trained on the floor but at the ready, stood outside. One of them pulled her out roughly, and then sealed the door behind her.

"Ow," she protested, rubbing her arm. "Jerk. I was fine."

The agent in question raised an eyebrow at her. There was a purpling bruise spreading across the left side of his face. "This was from lunch time," he explained in a brittle voice. "He looked just like he does now, but as soon as the door opened, he was on his way out." He frowned down at her. "I know you and Rogers both have soft spots for this guy, but he's a killer. Don't forget that."

On one hand, Darcy could appreciate his warning. But on the other hand, she had just spent hours in the 'killer's' cell, and didn't have a scratch on her. "He _was_ a killer," she corrected. "Now, he's becoming something else. Maybe if you don't treat him like a killer, he won't act like one."

She found Steve dozing in a chair. The dark circles around his eyes were very pronounced, and she wondered how long it had been since he'd done anything other than nap. That was going to change.

She woke him up, and bullied him out of Area 24. "C'mon Steve. You need to sleep."

He was exhausted enough that he didn't argue, and after getting him back to his place, she bullied him into a shower, and then to bed. He looked so lost, curled up on his side with his head pillowed on her shoulder, and one arm thrown across her stomach. In sleep, the part of him that was Captain America faded, and he was just Steve Rogers. Right now, he was scared for his friend, and he desperately needed her.

She was there every day. The S.H.I.E.L.D scientists speculated that because she had no ties to either of his lives, Barnes felt at peace with her. The two separate lives within him weren't warring with each other when she was there, so he could relax.

She had Steve start coming in with her, and at first it was very tense. Barnes would usually grow very agitated and jump up to pace violently. It nearly destroyed Steve. He would sit beside her, hands balled into fists and hunched into himself as his best friend kept away from him.

Darcy would always chastise Barnes, telling him that it wasn't very nice of him to so obviously not want Steve there.

Violence only erupted one time. Barnes was pacing in agitation, and Steve finally just snapped. "Why can't you just sit and be calm?"

Barnes whirled, eyes narrowed in deadly purpose, and launched himself across the cell. Darcy shrieked, throwing herself off the mattress and rolling across the floor away from the flailing arms and legs of the two combatants.

"Out!" Steve yelled, grunting as he was thrown into the wall. "Darcy – out now!"

No way. She flinched, pressing herself into the wall, but did not move closer to the door. The agents outside wouldn't open it unless she was right up on it, for security reasons. She didn't blame them.

Steve was taking a beating though. He wouldn't fight back, not against his best friend, so kept trying to dodge and slip around Barnes, but in the small cell, that was impossible. Darcy knew that he would be okay, but she didn't want to see them fighting.

"Stop it Barnes!" she called out, and ducked as Steve was thrown into the wall above her head. He fell with a thump right behind her, and she stood in front of him protectively, arms out. She was facing the Winter Soldier now, and it was more than a little terrifying.

"Darcy," Steve hissed. "Don't."

She faced down the assassin, so angry she could barely see straight. "You will not hurt him anymore, Barnes. He's your best friend. And maybe you don't really remember that right now, but I'm betting somewhere deep inside, you do remember. And if you want me to ever, EVER, come back to visit, you'll stand down right now."

She saw the change come over him. The ice blue of his eyes faded into green, and he blinked several times. He looked around at the dents in the walls, the man on the floor behind her, anywhere but at her, and then folded in on himself and sat down abruptly, head in his hands. Another breakthrough, then.

She moved over and sat down beside him, one hand reaching out to rest on his metal arm. She hadn't really touched him before, and a shudder ran through his whole body. Darcy knew it was stupid and foolish, but she couldn't help herself, and slid one arm around his back. Barnes nearly convulsed, bending over to press his face into his legs, entire body shaking so hard it had to hurt.

Darcy bit back tears, and just kept her arm in a loose circle around him. She shared an agonized look with Steve, who did have tears in his eyes while watching his best friend suffer so much. He sat up against the wall, moving slowly so as not set off another incident.

When Barnes's real hand reached out, fingers flexing, Darcy at first thought he was reaching for coffee. But then a choked noise came from the throat of the man beside her, and then again.

"Punk? Steve?"

It was so garbled it was almost unrecognizable, but Steve gasped and scrambled forward. He clasped the hand that was reaching for him, and bent over it, shaking just as hard as Barnes.

Watching both of them suffer through so much emotion torment was painful. Darcy reached out with the hand that was still around Barnes's back, and placed it on Steve's shoulder. They would be okay. It would take time, but they would be okay.

It wasn't completely smooth sailing from that point, but it did get a lot easier. There were days when Barnes would get confused, days when he snapped and shouted at everyone, but he didn't forget who Steve was, and he always wanted Darcy near him.

When he started flirting with the scientists, Steve made a decision, and went head to head with a mostly recovered Nick Fury. "He needs to be out of here. He's told you all he remembers about his employers."

Fury didn't want to bend. "He is a former Russian assassin responsible for hundreds of deaths!"

"He isn't responsible for any of them," Steve corrected. "And you know that. I'm not letting him stay locked up here anymore." He smiled tightly. "He'll be with me and Darcy. We'll keep him in line."

The shocked expression on Barnes's face, when the cell door was opened but not guarded, was worthy of a picture, and Darcy snapped one with her phone. She then made a come on gesture with her hand to the suddenly shy man in the cell.

"What?" she called in challenge. "You don't want to leave?"

He poked his head out cautiously, eyes darting back and forth. There were watchful eyes on him, but no one was holding a gun, and he could easily see that. He could also see Darcy and Steve waiting for him.

"I'm…I can leave?" he asked slowly.

Steve nodded. "Yes. We have to keep you close for a little while yet, but not in here. Not anymore." He grinned. "C'mon jerk. Let's get you reacquainted with the world."

Barnes's first steps outside the cell were shaky, but he rapidly gained confidence, enough to flash a saucy wink at one of the women in lab coats. Darcy just rolled her eyes.

"C'mon Barnes," she ordered. "Let's get you out of here before you get slapped."

He tried to affect an innocent expression, but it only looked devilish, and Darcy figured she was finally seeing Bucky. Such an opposite to Steve's quiet reserve, but also a compliment to the captain's personality. They made a strong partnership.

She threaded her left arm through Steve's, her right arm through Barnes's, and turned away from Area 24 with a light heart.


	4. Chapter 4

So, I can fully admit when I have a problem. I was on my home from the store, with yet another bag of pumpkin spice coffee (I hadn't seen this brand before!), when the idea for this part of the story came to me. So, while I may have enough pumpkin spice coffee to last until next fall, it seems to be good for the creative muse also.

I completely blame Jadzia_Bear for the tasing scene.

* * *

Darcy took a deep breath, counted to ten, and then decided that it really wasn't that important in the scheme of things. Right? A girl could totally live with having to put the toilet seat down every single freaking time she wanted to use it. Right?

Then again…

"I'm sure it can't possibly be that hard to remember to put the freaking seat down!" she called out the bathroom door, before shutting it firmly.

Adjusting to a new roommate was challenging. Bucky was a little skittish, like that recently tamed wild animal that still wasn't really sure why you were feeding it and caring for it. Both Darcy and Steve had taken extended leaves of absence from their jobs, barring any emergencies of course, in order to help him settle in. And he was doing very well.

Darcy, on the other hand, was having a tougher time adjusting to even more testosterone in the apartment.

So, okay, Bucky was sort of like her and Steve's love child. They'd raised him from the crazed psychopath he'd been, and now he was like an annoying teenager, complete with mood swings and temper tantrums. His little taste of freedom wasn't enough, and he constantly tested the limits.

"Why can't I go out by myself?" he had asked when they first arrived home. To Darcy, it had felt like coming home from the hospital with an overgrown newborn.

Steve at least remained patient. "S.H.I.E.L.D has a file on you that's almost too long to read, Buck. They're not convinced that the Winter Soldier is gone. The deal to get you out of confinement was that you can't be alone. At least not for awhile."

This apparently had encouraged Bucky to wander around the apartment, moving things, taking other things apart, and completely disrupting the normal order of Darcy's life. And since he did it all with that damnable smirk, she knew very well that he was trying to be disagreeable.

When she confronted him about it, he'd grinned even more. "Just trying to learn about things, pumpkin. All this is new to me."

She'd stared hard at him. "You are so full of shit it's a wonder that your eyes aren't brown."

He had winked and went off to rearrange all the dishes in the kitchen. She heard him doing it, but chose not to acknowledge it. He wanted the attention, and she wasn't going to give it to him.

Steve was too delighted at having his best friend back to call him out on his irritating behavior. "He'll calm down," he assured Darcy, as she reordered the dishes

"Was he always this challenging?" she asked in exasperation, finding dirty dishes in the cabinets, and clean dishes in the sink, still wet from the sprayer. The sprayer itself stuck out at an odd angle, with a rough knot tied in its hose.

Steve rolled his eyes to the ceiling in thought, then finally shrugged with a sheepish expression. "Frequently."

Bucky also apparently thought it was hysterical to call her pumpkin, in a nod to how she had connected to him. The first dozen times she heard it, Darcy just rolled her eyes, but it did grow on her. After all, she had tamed him with pumpkin spice coffee, which really was kind of funny.

She was used to Steve's nightmares by now, and knew enough to interrupt them only from a safe distance, but she wasn't prepared for the first night Bucky woke up screaming. She bolted out of bed and to his room, only to narrowly avoid a shoe that was thrown at her head.

Bucky was crouched in the corner of his room, other shoe in his hand, still locked in a dream. He was snarling at her in another language, eyes wild and crazed.

Steve dashed past her and threw a glass of ice water in Bucky's face. It had the desired reaction – Bucky sputtered in shock for a few seconds, then shook his head, blinked several times, and then just seemed to collapse in on himself. Steve moved in to sit beside him, one arm around his shoulders, murmuring a quiet reassurance. Darcy joined them, sitting on Bucky's left, holding on to the cybernetic arm. That always seemed to help settle him.

The raw emotion on Bucky's face reminded Darcy that he had been through hell, and left her feeling somewhat more tolerant of the testing behavior. A little bit.

Bucky finally looked up at them. "What will you do?" he asked in a strangled voice. "If I wake up like that and can't break out of it?"

"I'll tase you in the balls, Barnes," Darcy replied cheerfully, patting his metal forearm. "Bet that will reset your brain." She noticed the open mouthed disbelief from both and shrugged. "What? I I freak out easily. He starts speaking in tongues again and I'll give him a reason to stop." She pointed her finger at Barnes like it was a gun, and made a sizzling noise.

When they both crossed their legs, she tried not to laugh.

"Stark totally upgraded my taser, by the way, so it will be enough to put you down."

They did talk about it seriously later on. Both Bucky and Steve were convinced that it could happen. If Bucky's mind couldn't pull free of the dream, if he was stuck as the Winter Soldier, he would immediately identify the two of them as his captors, and react appropriately. He would attempt to neutralize them. Darcy listened, trying not to be scared. In a very short time, Bucky had wormed his way into her heart, and she wouldn't give up on him. It would absolutely kill Steve if she did.

None of them was expecting it to happen, and the hope was that it didn't.

Usually, it was one of the guys who struggled with sleep. Darcy was pretty used to that now, after three weeks of having a new roommate. Like Steve, Bucky had a tendency to wake up screaming, or pace around the apartment all night. But for once, Darcy was the one struggling with insomnia, staring up at the ceiling in the dark while holding on to Steve's slumbering form. He had been called out with the Avengers today, and it hadn't been pretty. Three New York policemen had lost their lives, and another two were in critical condition. The group responsible was apparently linked to Steve and Bucky's past, and it had brought up a lot of suppressed memories.

Bucky's face, when he heard who was responsible, had drained of color, taking on a haunted expression that made Darcy's stomach clench. For all that he was an infuriating scoundrel most of the time, she sometimes almost forgot why he was with them. But his reaction to Steve's news reminded her, forcefully, that he'd lived through hell.

Instead of talking to either her or Steve, Bucky had retreated to his room. Darcy checked in on him once, to find him lying on his bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. It was…disturbing. There was no music playing, and the TV was off, so he had no distractions from his thoughts.

"Hey Barnes," she called lightly. "Everything okay?"

He nodded. "Just fine, pumpkin. But the punk is probably taking it pretty hard, about those policemen. Worry about him."

It was clearly a dismissal, so she left him alone with his thoughts, and bullied Steve into the shower. He was upset, as Bucky had predicted, and it had taken a bit of pampering for him to relax enough to fall asleep. She couldn't drop off, though. There were too many feelings and frustrations for her boyfriend and his best friend that were running through her mind. So she just stared up into the darkness, holding Steve and taking comfort in his warmth.

The slightest creak of floorboards caught her attention, followed by the tiniest of sounds as a door was pushed open. It was close, closer than the outside door, so it had to be Bucky's door, but no lights were on. Both he and Steve were adamant about that. If they tried to sneak around, the other one reacted poorly, so it was just better to turn on lights and do things as usual. This? This screamed out that something was very wrong.

Suddenly, all those warnings from both Steve and Bucky flashed in Darcy's head, and her heart started pounding so hard she couldn't hear anything else. Her taser was on the bedside table, and she snapped a hand out to grab it. She angled it toward the door, hidden behind Steve's shoulder, and squinted through the dark. Everything was blurry without her glasses, and this was possibly like the most cliché horror movie ever, and her poor heart was just going to burst. It was pounding so hard she could practically taste it.

Her knee rose to poke into Steve's side, trying to rouse him, but he was deeply asleep and didn't stir. Figures.

The floorboards creaked in succession, coming ever closer. Darcy was almost panting, muscles so tense she was shaking. Her mouth was open so she could breathe silently, and draw in enough air to keep from passing out. The taser was clenched so tightly that her hands ached.

When she saw the darker than dark shadow at the door, Darcy was pretty sure her heart exploded. She tried to remember that she had survived a killer robot and a dark elf invasion, but this was more terrifying because of its proximity. This was Bucky, or rather some shattered remnant of his former sociopathic life that was stalking into their room. And he _was_ stalking, gliding sideways like a cat ready to pounce. There was something in his hand, but she couldn't make out what it was in the dim light from the window. He was completely and utterly silent and terrifying.

Unfortunately for him, he made the mistake of moving toward Steve first.

"Wrong move," she told him as she lifted the taser over Steve's shoulder and fired.

Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, or whoever the hell he was at the moment, grunted softly, and then dropped to the floor, limbs twitching. Darcy elbowed Steve sharply while trying to force air back into her lungs. That had been too real.

"Huh? What?" Steve's voice was adorably sleep confused.

"Some super soldier," Darcy accused in a shaky voice. "How did you survive in the war?" She really needed him awake and alert right now, because that had possibly been the scariest thing ever, and she wanted to know her superhero boyfriend was ready to protect her.

Steve inhaled against the pillow. "What are you talking about?"

"Wake the hell up, would you?" she snapped.

Her sharp tone did the trick, and Steve went from dopey just woke up to bouncing out of bed in a ready stance. He landed on Bucky, but rolled and tumbled smoothly across the room. Only Captain freaking America could make falling on his face look intentional and graceful at the same time. Darcy hated him sometimes, just for that.

He ended his tumble in a crouch and whirled to confront his best friend, who was still out cold and sprawled on the floor. Then he looked up at Darcy, sitting up in bed with taser clenched in both hands, white knuckles and all.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" she squeaked. "That was terrifying, Steve. Like every horror movie ever where the killer stalks the star. He was _stalking_ us! Like a freaking oversized cat or something." She shuddered hard, taser still aimed at the twitching body on the floor.

Steve rose to his feet and was moving toward her when Bucky groaned. They both tensed, looking at the man on the floor. He was stirring slowly, still twitching, and finally rolled to one side, real hand and cybernetic hand coming down to cradle his groin.

"You tased me in the balls," Bucky groaned, knees drawing up in a fetal position. "Shit, pumpkin, that hurt!"

Her breath whooshed out of her in relief, matching Steve's own exhale. "I warned you," she said shakily. "You were stalking us. That was so completely uncool." Then, his gentle rocking on the floor made her feel a little bad. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm not," he replied, voice still strained. "You were right. It brought me back. Damn punk. Please tell me she did that to you at least once. And that it hurt."

Steve laughed. It was a little tentative, but almost like a signal that all was okay. Darcy relaxed a little, and unwound her fingers from her taser. She placed it back on the nightstand, and then, conscious of her current state of not-very-dressed, tugged the bed sheets up to her chest. Not that Bucky was looking, since he was still curled up in a fetal position, but she didn't want to be flashing the girls at him. And her loose camisole was practically see-through.

Steve saw her move and smiled tiredly. He took the two steps necessary to reach the bedroom door, and snagged Darcy's robe that hung on a hook. He tossed it to her, then made his way over to Bucky.

"You ready to get up, jerk?" He toed Bucky in the hip.

"She fried my balls. What do you think?"

Darcy slid out of bed on the opposite side to the two men and pulled her robe on. She padded around the foot of the bed to stand at Steve's side, looking down at Bucky in sympathy. "I _am_ sorry, Barnes."

His real hand flapped dismissively at her, so Darcy decided to make coffee. She'd stocked up on pumpkin spice before they moved Bucky in, and figured that would be her best chance at apology. "Gonna make coffee," she advised, and then slipped out of the bedroom, allowing Bucky to have some dignity while he recovered.

He definitely had a coffee problem that she was probably the cause of. She liked coffee just fine, but not at all times of the day. Bucky, on the other hand, liked to keep drinking it all day long. Part of that was to prevent sleep, she thought. His sleep didn't often come without nightmares, and those nightmares haunted him. Coffee helped prevent sleep, so he took advantage of it.

The smell of pumpkin spice coffee helped soothe her nerves. She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd told Steve that the whole incident had been terrifying. Her heart was still thumping harder than normal, and she could still see that silent stalking shadow moving toward them. It had worn Bucky's outline, but it hadn't been him at all, and she wondered how much it must have hurt Steve to see his best friend before he was deprogrammed.

She pulled their coffee mugs out of the dishwasher. Bucky had stopped rearranging things after his first week with them, so she no longer had to search for things. They remained where she put them. Except for the toilet seat. That appeared to be a continuing battle.

When they appeared in the kitchen, Bucky had a noticeable bowlegged walk and Darcy felt just awful.

"I'm really sorry, Barnes."

He propped a hip against the counter, tired eyes staring into hers. "I told you, pumpkin – I'm not. I don't want to be that thing anymore. Whatever it takes to shock me out of it is good." He looked down at his coffee mug, then back up at her. Waiting.

It was the strangest thing, and Darcy figured it was because of her part in his deprogramming. Certain patterns of behavior had been established, and maybe he felt a superstitious fear that if they did things differently, he would revert. He would not pick up the coffee mug on his own. Ever. They would stare, having a silent contest of wills, until he either made grabby hands, or she got tired of waiting. Then she would lift the mug and hand it to him.

After tasing him in the balls, she wasn't going to make him wait. Darcy lifted the mug and deposited it into his slightly twitching hands. Aftereffects of the tasing, or the prelude to grabby hands, she wasn't quite sure. Seeing the peace that came over him while sipping the coffee totally made her feel a little better.

"So," she mused, taking a sip of her own. "How do we prevent this in the future? Because if I hadn't been awake…"

Steve obviously had something in mind that he wasn't too thrilled about, judging by the thoughtful expression followed by thinned lips.

"What?" Darcy prompted him. "You've already thought of something."

He nodded. "But I don't really like it. Stark offered awhile back, and then again when he found out we were moving Bucky in with us."

Darcy blinked. "Jarvis," she guessed.

Steve sighed. "Buck and I have been talking about the possibility since he got here. Any normal warning systems could easily be dismantled by that part of him. But not Jarvis."

"It's probably the only option," Bucky admitted softly. "I'd…I'd feel a lot better with something that put me down right away, or wake Steve up right away."

Darcy looked down into her coffee mug as she took a sip. She could understand why Steve didn't like the idea. Tony Stark didn't have a lot of respect for privacy, and installing his AI butler could compromise their private life. But Bucky was right. They needed to have something to take instant action, and Jarvis would be the most reliable piece of technology to monitor Bucky.

She looked back up to see Steve and Bucky staring at each other, parts of their faces twitching or moving. "Stop the silent talking thing," she grumped. "I don't speak the language and it's annoying."

Bucky flashed a tired grin. "Comes from growing up together, pumpkin. And from fighting a war together. You have to be able to communicate silently, or something unexpected you did could get you or your buddies killed."

The sound of Steve's coffee mug dropping to the floor and shattering was deafening. Darcy looked up at him sharply, seeing the stricken expression on his face, like someone had stabbed him through the heart. She stepped toward him but Bucky was much faster. He slid into Steve's space, one hand curling around the back of his neck, the other falling onto Steve's shoulder. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Steve's.

"It wasn't your fault," Bucky whispered fiercely, knocking his forehead against Steve's, face twisting with suppressed emotion. "Don't blame yourself. Don't you dare."

Steve's sorrow hit Darcy hard. She gasped and blinked back tears, wanting to go to him, but recognizing that they needed this moment. It had been brewing since Bucky first reached out to his best friend. They hadn't talked about his 'death' and Steve felt a shit-ton of guilt about it.

"I couldn't save you," he said thickly, body shaking. "I should have been able to save you!"

Bucky's smile shone through his own sudden tears. "You did. So many times. I made my own choices, punk. I chose to follow you. I still will. Into hell if necessary."

Darcy stood silently, tears pouring from her own eyes, and just watched. Steve, always a rock, always putting his own feelings aside for the good of others, couldn't seem to pull himself together. He kept shaking, face splotched and twisted in an effort to hold back his own tears. His arms hung limply at his sides, fists clenched tightly.

Bucky held onto him, murmuring soft reassurances, forehead still pressed to Steve's. He glanced at Darcy out of the corner of his eye, and then looked down at the coffee spreading on the floor. Huh. He must have dropped his own mug in his haste to get to Steve, and there was an impressive puddle widening across the kitchen floor.

Shit. Darcy wiped tears from her eyes, put her coffee mug on the counter, and withdrew silently, heading to the bathroom closet to grab dirty towels. She'd throw a load in the washer once she cleaned up the floor.

She deliberately took her time, painstakingly pulling already used cleaning rags and bath towels out of the dirty towel hamper. The quiet kitchen was almost deafening, even in the bathroom, with so much that didn't really even need to be said. Bucky wouldn't let go until Steve forgave himself. Somehow Darcy knew that. He'd been through hell, and that would be with him forever, but he had meant what he'd said. He chose to follow Steve, and he still would. Steve needed to accept that.

When she finally returned to the kitchen, they had separated, but were still standing in a puddle of coffee. Steve's eyes were red rimmed, and there were tracks down his cheeks that told her he had finally let go and cried.

"Took ya long enough," Bucky told her, voice a little hoarse. The little shit had her coffee mug in his hands, and was drinking it. Ah, so it was okay to steal other people's mugs, but he wouldn't pick up his own.

Darcy glared at him and dropped her armful of towel on the puddle. She reached out briefly to Steve, sliding a hand along his cheek. He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, but leaned his head into her touch, so Darcy knew he would be okay.

She dropped to her knees and began wiping up the spilled coffee. She had brought a clean towel with her as well, and kept it clear of the mess. When she had the puddle corralled in a ring of towels and rags, she picked up the clean towel, and looked up at Steve. From this vantage point, he was huge, towering over her and looking every inch a superhero, despite the sweatpants and bare chest that were his usual bedtime clothes. Even with his hair sticking out at odd angles, and the slightly haunted expression on his face, he was still a hero.

"Feet," she commanded, holding up the clean towel.

She heard Bucky's snort of mirth behind her. "Pumpkin, I thought you were gonna say something else, and I was getting ready to leave."

"Shut up, Barnes."

Steve lifted one foot out of the little puddle under him, and balanced while she dried his foot. Then he placed that one on a dry spot, and lifted the other. When she was done with him, he headed toward the bathroom to wash off his sticky feet. Darcy didn't laugh at the small suction sound his feet made with every step. She wanted to, but Steve was obviously still working through quite a bit, and she thought that laughing right now wouldn't really be appropriate.

She pivoted on her heels, towel ready for Bucky. He was already waiting for her, one foot stuck out in front of him, dripping coffee onto a dry spot on the floor. Darcy dried one foot, and then the other, and then continued to dry the floor while Bucky watched her, still sipping her coffee. When she was mostly done, Darcy picked up the wettest towel and slapped it into Bucky's stomach.

"Here's _your_ coffee," she told him, snatching her mug back out of his hands.

The towel fell back to the floor with a wet plop, but it had left a large wet coffee spot on Bucky's tee shirt, and there were rivulets of coffee running down toward his legs. He stared down at that, then looked back up at her, sagely sipping her coffee, and threw his head back to laugh. For the first time, she thought, it was free of its usual edge.

Steve returned, and eyed Bucky carefully, as if expecting the laugh to be hysterical. When he saw the wet spot, and that Darcy had reclaimed her coffee, he also laughed, even though it was a little reserved.

"Told you not to underestimate my girl, jerk."

Bucky grinned, one hand coming down to staunch the spread of coffee toward his legs, using a dry piece of his tee shirt. "She's something else, punk. I'm gonna take a quick shower, since I'm all sticky now. Make us some more coffee, pumpkin?"

Darcy wrinkled her nose at him, and hid her smile behind her coffee mug. "I will."

Bucky trotted off toward the bathroom. Darcy watched him go, and then sat her coffee mug back down on the kitchen counter, and curled a finger at Steve. He grinned, and slid a few steps closer so she could slide her arms around him and burrow her face into his chest.

"You okay?" she asked softly, breathing him in.

His arms tightened around her. "I feel a little raw, but I think I'll finally be okay."

"Good."


	5. Chapter 5

So, this story is from Bucky's POV, and it deals with topics that some readers may find uncomfortable, awkward, or offensive. Just saying. Read at your own risk.

This is the third installment in a series. The first part - **When Passed My Friend and Left Me Standing Bleakly. **The second part is **To Soothe the Savage Beast**

* * *

The apartment was too small.

James Barnes, known as 'Bucky' to his closest friends, paced his bedroom in extreme agitation. He was grateful. He would never stop being grateful for being rescued from the life of the Winter Soldier. And he loved his two best friends. But in the three months since his 'awakening', the apartment had grown far too small for all three of them.

Or, rather, it was far too small for him, and Darcy and Steve.

Breaking through the rewrite of his mind had been like waking from a long sleep. The last thing he remembered was falling. Then suddenly, there was Steve and Darcy, relentlessly trying to 'wake' him up. He had memories of his other life, as the Winter Soldier. But those memories were dim, as if a dream. Bucky had gone to sleep in the 40s, just like Steve had, and everything around him was new. The dim memories inside of his head helped him adjust, but it was like seeing things through a fog.

Once they had grown more comfortable with each other, Darcy and Steve had returned to their normal patterns of behavior. They were a couple, and while their focus had been on Bucky and his recovery, their relationship had taken a backseat. But once he was more in control of himself, their relationship came back to the forefront.

Steve was nothing like the awkward idiot Bucky remembered around women. He had to believe that Darcy had a lot to do with that. She wasn't going to let someone be awkward around her. It must have been an overload to Steve's poor senses, but he learned how to handle her. It was probably inevitable that he fell for her. He had a thing for brunettes.

Now that they could pull their focus back from Bucky, he frequently noticed them looking at each other. Intense stares that sent a lick of flame into his core. Bucky figured it was the universe getting even with him. Poor Steve used to be the one watching him with the dames. Now Bucky watched and envied.

Enhanced hearing was not something he had, but he didn't really need it. When Darcy and Steve were having alone time in their room, he couldn't help but to hear it. Darcy wasn't exactly quiet. And it was driving him back to insane very quickly. Neither one seemed to realize what it was doing to him.

He had, of course, taken what pleasure he was allowed to as the Winter Soldier, but there was always a reason for it. It was always a means to an end. Desire did not exist. There was only physical gratification, and the completion of a mission.

But Bucky Barnes had desires and wants, and it had been a hellacious long time since he'd been able to fulfill them (70+ years). Being forced to listen to the enjoyment of others was sheer torture, and on those days, his skin was too tight, and he had the desire to break something. If he did, though, Steve would just look at him with sad eyes. Or worse, Darcy would heave a huge sigh, and start talking to calm him down. He didn't want to let them down or disappoint them, so kept everything bottled up.

He also didn't want to jerk off to the sounds of them getting busy with each other, but he was so hard it hurt, and he couldn't even see straight at this point. So he turned his TV up really loud, slid his real hand into his sweats, and muffled a groan as he wrapped fingers around himself. It took an embarrassingly few number of strokes until he was shuddering and convulsing in release.

Bucky flopped back onto his bed, breathing a little fast, and uttered a few silent curses when he felt the sticky wetness on the inside of his sweats. He couldn't keep going on like this. He needed to separate himself from them, and that thought caused pain. They were everything to him. His best friends; the two people who had pulled him from the darkness. But for his own sanity's sake, tenuous as it already was, he had to break free.

Steve would be crushed, he knew. The captain would look at him with those sad eyes, and it would hurt like a sucker punch to the stomach. And Darcy? That would be even worse. She felt sort of proprietary about him, since she had been instrumental in his recovery. She had the tendency to hold things or people she loved very close, and he didn't think she'd be able to let go.

He'd considered Natasha as a relief option, since they had history, but one look at Clint Barton's expression whenever he was around her was enough for Bucky to stay away. Since that decision effectively eliminated his options, he was stuck. Unless he could convince them that he was cleared for unsupervised excursions out in public, he had to endure, or get away.

A perverse and twisted part of him wondered how Steve and Darcy would handle it if he had a woman visit.

The bathroom was at least far enough away from the master bedroom that Bucky couldn't hear anything, when he finally roused himself to clean up. He decided to take a shower while he was at it, and dumped his soiled sweats in the shower stall with him. Because there was no way he was throwing them in the hamper for Darcy or Steve to find. Darcy had a habit of stealing his dirty clothes when she did their laundry, and Bucky just couldn't live with the thought of her realizing he was shooting off in his sweats by himself. It was humiliating, and he didn't want her to pity him.

One of the benefits (downsides?) of having been injected with a bastardized version of the super soldier serum was that his body's recovery time was very quick. Bucky could only imagine what Steve dealt with, because it could sometimes be highly inconvenient. Especially if there was no outlet for release. So when he started soaping himself, and the inevitable reaction occurred, Bucky just gritted his teeth, and turned the faucet to cold water. Eventually it faded, and he emerged, shivering and cold.

Before drying off, he made sure his sweats were clean, and squeezed the water out of them rather savagely. Then he did dry off, trying not to touch the fake arm too much. It was a reminder of what he had been, and no matter how much he wanted to forget, the arm was always there as a reminder. Strangely enough, Darcy always seemed to touch the arm first. It was a level of acceptance that not even Steve was capable of, and Bucky tried not to think about it too much. His feelings for his best friend's girl were already too strong. He didn't need to encourage himself.

Clean, dry and dressed in fresh sweats, he headed back to his room. The other bedroom door was still firmly shut, so he did the same to his, shutting it behind him. He threw himself down on his bed, turned off the bedside light, and stared blankly at the television. There wasn't much on the television that could engage his attention, but he liked the sound. It gave the illusion that he wasn't alone.

Boredom and lack of purpose were going to send him screaming back into the abyss. Sleeping was probably right up at the top of that list as well.

Sometimes he was able to sleep soundly. Bucky treasured those nights, because he woke up feeling like himself, and like he could do anything. Those nights were in the minority though. There were too many bad memories to leave him in peace, starting with his own death. He had died. Bucky knew that. But the icy water had preserved him, and when he'd been found, they'd resuscitated (resurrected?) him. Like Steve, his body had been preserved, due to the strange cocktail of drugs within it.

Other nights, most other nights, he dreamt of ice and falling, or of hunting and killing brutally. Those were the worst. The memories of his time as the Winter Soldier were uncompromising in their explicit detail. He choked the life out of victims, shot them through the heads, or sliced open their throats. Always, he could feel the splash of hot blood or the desperate hitches as they tried to breathe. Worse, he could feel the grim satisfaction he himself took in completing his mission.

This night was a bad one. There was a man who would not do what his controllers wanted him to do. The Winter Soldier was sent to make an example of him, in a very specific way. The man had a very young daughter, and he sobbed like a baby when she was tortured and killed right in front of him.

Bucky had those memories. They were part of his life, even if he'd not been himself, and to relive them was excruciating. He fought up out of the nightmare, clawing at the bed sheets and blankets, trying to erase the memory and the feel of what he'd done. There were hands on his arms, calling to him, trying to pull him back to himself. When he came back, it was with a choked cry that turned into agonized sobs.

Bucky turned on his side, pulling away from the hands on his arms, and curled into a fetal position. There had been blood. He had been covered in so much blood and his ears still rang with the cries of the father and the child.

It took a long time to pass, and he was completely wrung out when it was over. Darcy was behind him on his bed, arms around his waist, talking softly. Steve was in front of him, on his knees on the floor, torso sprawled on the bed, arms around Bucky's shoulders. Steve's face was creased in grief, and that nearly killed Bucky. Steve shouldn't look like that, not for him.

"It's over, Barnes," Darcy assured softly.

"Buck? You back with us?" Steve raised his head.

He shook them off, sitting up hastily. "I need to leave," he said in a voice hoarse from screaming. "I need to get clear."

He didn't need to look at either face to see the hurt there, but he didn't deserve to be part of their closeness. And it was theirs, not his. He loved them both, but he couldn't keep being around them. He was still broken, and his darkness dimmed their light.

"Tell Fury or whoever to get their security detail ready, because I know they won't let me be on my own without watching me." He pulled his knees up to his chest and slid both arms around them, staring straight ahead. "If they want to restrict where I go, then tell them to get a place ready."

Darcy's hand was warm on his arm. "Barnes?" It nearly killed him to hear the hurt in her voice, but Bucky couldn't do it anymore.

"Tomorrow at the latest," he told them in a dead voice.

"Bucky?"

He couldn't handle that. Not Steve sounding so lost and unsure of everything. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. "Please go," he said quietly. "I don't want to be around you anymore."

He heard Darcy urging Steve to his feet, but he could still hear Steve's lost little boy voice. "I don't understand. Bucky?"

"C'mon Steve. He needs to be alone right now."

He heard them withdraw, the bedroom door rattling when Darcy slammed it shut. Bucky didn't even need to look to know it had been her. Steve was too hurt, too lost to be angry. Darcy's hurt translated into anger. But it was better that way. Better that they both be hurt but free of him. Safe from what he could do.

He wasn't sure how much later it was when the bedroom door opened again. Bucky looked up in time to be rocked by a slap to his face.

Darcy was coldly furious. "How could you say that to him?" she hissed. "Why would you say that to him? I know it's not true, Barnes, so why?"

He rubbed his cheek. "It is true, pumpkin. I don't want to be around either of you anymore. I feel stifled, suffocated, like I'm only half a man." Oh how those words hurt to say out loud, but it was for the best. They would never be able to move on, to truly live, while worried about him. While being his caretaker.

She slapped him again, tears in her eyes. "I don't know why you're doing this. I know you're lying."

Bucky made himself grin, like he didn't have a care in the world. Like his own heart wasn't shattering into pieces at the thought of leaving them. "You think whatever you want to, pumpkin. I just want to be rid of you two."

A sob escaped her, and Darcy retreated, face creased in sorrow. Bucky forced his face into the impassive lines of the Winter Soldier – no emotion. Inside, he felt like he was crumbling. But he couldn't stay. He didn't want to come to resent them, and forever being on the edge of their closeness would do that. It was better this way.

Romanoff and Barton came for him the next morning.

Bucky hadn't emerged from his room. He couldn't bear to be around either Steve or Darcy right now, so he stayed hidden away. Barton had contacted him the night before with the news that he could move into a S.H.I.E.L.D monitored apartment closer to the regional office. There was a question in the archer's voice, but he didn't voice it. Bucky thanked him politely, and suggested a time when he would be ready to go.

He didn't have anything to pack, except some clothes. Everything else in his room had been gifts from Darcy or Steve, and he couldn't bear to bring anything like that with him. It would be too painful of a reminder of what he couldn't have.

He was hoping to disappear without further confrontation, but when Bucky emerged from his room in the morning, Steve was standing in front of the outside door in full Captain mode, arms folded across his chest, looking grim. Darcy stood off to one side, eyes red rimmed and swollen, but with her mouth set in an angry line. Barton and Romanoff waited by the door, without readable expressions.

"I don't know what happened, Bucky, but this doesn't feel right. I need you to tell me what happened."

Bucky strolled to the kitchen counter, and propped his hip against it, inhaling deeply, corner of his mouth curling up in a hard grin. "I'm tired of being your little pet project, Steve. Or the stray animal you can't stand to leave out on the street, Darcy. Thanks for the smothering, but I'm done with that."

He saw each word hit them like actual blows. Darcy choked back a sob and fled to the bedroom, leaving Steve still in his way. The captain's eyes were narrowed. "Fine. Done smothering. Have all the space you want, because I'm thinking you're not Bucky right now."

Bucky smiled, with a lot of teeth. "Or maybe I just started being Bucky again." He stood, and raised an eyebrow until Steve moved. "See ya, Cap."

Barton and Romanoff flanked him as he left the apartment, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. They remained silent until the three of them entered the elevator.

"That was harsh," Barton told him.

Bucky didn't even acknowledge that. He was being stared at, quite intently, by Natasha. She saw too much, knew parts of him too well.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. "Sometimes it helps."

That was a little closer to the truth than Bucky wanted anyone to be. He swallowed hard and shook his head. "Am I allowed out on my own?" he asked.

Her stare was unnerving. "Not unsupervised. S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't trust your recovery that much, yet."

Bucky clenched his jaw hard, hands unconsciously forming into fists, immediately noting the tensing of the two agents escorting him. "How about visitors?"

One elegant red eyebrow climbed in question. "Doubtful. Do you really think Steve or Darcy will come to visit you?"

He shook his head. "Not them. Not anyone involved in S.H.I.E.L.D. Just…" He clenched his jaw again. Damned if he would articulate that he needed to get laid.

Barton got it. The corner of the archer's mouth twitched up in a grin. "I think it can be arranged," he assured. Then, when Natasha looked at him, "Don't worry about it, Nat. It's a guy thing." He nudged Bucky with his elbow. "We'll talk then. When there aren't any judgmental ears around."

Natasha's sour expression almost made Bucky chuckle. "There should always be judgmental ears around you, Clint, because the only judgment you have is poor."

"I resent that. Occasionally, it's only questionable."

"By whose standards?" she demanded. "Stark's?"

Barton's face creased in disgust. "Awe Tasha, that wasn't nice."

"Whoever said I was nice, Hawkeye?"

Their bantering helped soothe the anxiety that was gnawing at Bucky's gut. Of all the terrible things he'd done in his life, deliberately trying to hurt the two people who had saved him was the worst. He couldn't erase the visual in his head of Darcy's expression crumbling, and the tears that immediately followed. Steve hadn't shown nearly that level of emotion, but that only meant he was keeping the hurt inside.

He remembered a time, dimly, of having that level of ease with Natasha. She went by Natalia then, and hadn't yet been broken. He had played a large part in breaking her spirit. But something in her still had hope, and she was dependent on him. Since he had done nothing to discourage that dependency, he was deemed flawed, and taken in for re-conditioning. Bucky couldn't really remember that part, but he had a very clear memory of trying to kill her. That had been his assigned mission. He had failed, and she had then failed to kill him, which was always seen as a flaw on her part. Still, she was valuable enough that they decided not to kill her for her failure. He was shipped off to cryostasis, until they might have need of him again.

He missed having that level of comfort with someone. All he'd had was the time before the war, when he was a playboy, showing all kinds of dames a good time, and protecting his asthmatic, puny best friend from his own altruistic beliefs. It was a dim memory of a magical time. Once he became a soldier and went to war, that was over. He was one of many - cold, scared, and just hoping like hell that he'd live to come home.

Hope almost disappeared when his unit had been captured. Caged and worked like animals, their hope slowly dwindled as no attempts to free them were made. Fear blossomed as men were taken to the isolation ward and never returned. There was no comfort to be had. Bucky longed for the days where he could lose himself in the warmth and softness of a woman's touch.

When his time came, when the Hydra soldiers dragged him out of his cell in the earliest hours of dawn, Bucky abandoned hope. He knew what being taken to the isolation ward meant. It was a painful death sentence. Schmidt's mad doctor, Zola, liked to conduct experiments on the Allied soldiers. No one knew the nature of those experiments, because no one ever came back from them. Bucky was going to find out, but the knowledge would die in painful torment with him.

The bitter taste of regret, for a life he didn't get to go back to, was so thick in his mouth that he choked as they dragged him to his fate. One of the strongest feelings of regret was tied to Steve. Steve would inevitably die by some punk's hand, trying to be noble without realizing that his body couldn't support his ideals. He'd always been there to support Steve. They looked out for each other, and as Bucky was being strapped down to a table, he wanted to see his best friend one more time. He wanted to tell Steve to be smart, but to keep being a great man.

Then there were needles and knives and the burn of chemicals in his veins. The dwarfish face of Zola became his own personal hell, and Bucky just wished he'd die faster. He learned, intimately, how much pain the human body could take before the spirit broke and he answered any question asked of him. But that didn't stop the torment. There was only more pain, more needles, more knives, and more chemicals.

When Steve's face appeared, looking down at him in horror, Bucky rejoiced. He was dead, or in a state so close to it that Zola couldn't hurt him anymore, because Steve was there to stand between Bucky and pain. He patted Steve's cheek when his arms were released, and then had to frown in confusion when Steve helped him stand up. Steve was huge!

"What happened to you?" he had to know, tongue barely working. It was swollen and dry, and Bucky couldn't even get his feet to work as Steve hauled him assay from where he'd been tortured.

"I joined the army," his best friend quipped.

It was a salvation that Bucky wasn't expecting. He began to have hope again as he and the rest of the Howling Commandos followed Captain America on a Hydra search and destroy mission. They could have normal lives again, once the war was over. And, miracle of miracles, Steve already had himself a girl, even if neither one of them would admit to it. Bucky was worried at first, because who wouldn't like Steve now? But Peggy Carter's eyes, while appreciate of the physical, grew impossibly warm whenever Steve's character shone brightly. And Steve confessed that she had looked at him the same way when he was an asthmatic shrimp.

Bucky could only hope that he'd find someone to look at him like that. But he was terribly afraid that the outside was all dames ever saw of him. His inner self wasn't nearly as shiny as Steve. Still, there had to be someone, somewhere…

Then, they went after Zola in an icy highland, and when Bucky tried to be Captain America, all his heroics got him was blown out of a train. By some miracle, he managed to grab onto a railing on the side of the train that had been blown open. Steve appeared moments later, reaching out to him, but the railing, buffeted by the air from the train's speed, snapped free, and Bucky fell, screaming out his rage and regrets. He squeezed his eyes shut, because he didn't want to see what he was falling into.

A hand seized his wrist, stopping his fall, and his eyes snapped open, only to find that he wasn't dropping into an icy abyss. He was in an elevator with Romanoff and Barton, crouched on the floor, with Natasha holding tight to his real arm. Her eyes were wide, and her hair was a little disheveled. Barton was slumped in the corner of the elevator, blinking, with a bloody nose.

"That was a bad one," the redhead remarked. She had seen it once before, where a memory from the past took over. Back then, Bucky hadn't been himself, and didn't know where the memory came from or what it was about.

He slumped, arm still in the air, still tethered to reality. "You caught me," he noted hoarsely.

Natasha tugged on his arm, pulling him reluctantly back to his feet. "I didn't want to find out what would happen if you hit bottom. I don't think Clint could handle it."

Barton wiped at his nose. "Not many people surprise me, Barnes. Congratulations. You're in a very small group that includes a god." He accepted a helping hand up from Natasha, who hadn't let go of Bucky's arm yet, keeping him anchored. The archer's eyes held a grudging respect as he slid up the side of the elevator until he was completely upright. He rotated his jaw gingerly, and then shrugged. "Nasty elbow strike you have, Barnes. Damn metal arm."

Bucky looked away. "Sorry Barton."

When Natasha was sure he was firmly back in reality, she released his arm. "Why don't we take the stairs?" she suggested. "The down motion of the elevator probably isn't helping."

Probably not. Bucky nodded, noting for the first time that the emergency stop on the elevator had been pulled. Natasha's doing, he was willing to bet. She knew about triggers, and must have realized instantly that the dropping motion of the elevator was one of his.

They took the stairs the rest of the way down to the lobby of the apartment building. There were six other S.H.I.E.L.D agents waiting for them outside. Bucky recognized them. They had all, at one point or another, been on guard duty while he had been at S.H.I.E.L.D. They knew what to expect from him should he attempt to escape.

"Fury holds a grudge," Barton explained, at Bucky's pained look. "It will take him awhile to forgive the assassination attempt."

Understandable. Bucky was on his best behavior as he ducked into a black SUV with Barton and Romanoff . He didn't say anything to anyone, ignoring Natasha's worried gaze, and just paid attention to where they were going, so he could retrace the path if necessary. In case he needed to get back to Steve and Darcy. If they would even ever want to see him again.

The apartment was of average size, sparsely furnished, well inside a secured building. There were no windows. For one moment, ever fiber of Bucky's being cried out against going back into confinement, but then he remembered the torment of staying with Steve and Darcy. And he couldn't do that either.

Natasha seemed to feel guilty about it. She couldn't meet his eyes. "It's been fully stocked with food, drinks, and supplies. You should have everything you need."

Not everything. Bucky looked over at Barton, who curled one side of his mouth up in a grin. The archer waved off the other S.H.I.E.L.D agents, and aimed a pointed stare at Natasha. She frowned at the two of them, but finally herded the others out, with an angry stomp to her booted heels.

Barton made himself at home, settling onto the sofa and kicking his booted feet up onto the coffee table. "So…I've been around Rogers and Lewis when they start to get all touchy and start staring at each other like they're mentally undressing each other. Can't be comfortable to be around."

Bucky leaned against the closest wall, staring into space. "No," he agreed shortly.

Clint nodded. "Based on personal experience, it takes a little while after your mind is your own again to start feeling normal…urges. And it might be really strong when that happens."

Bucky looked at him. "You've been programmed before?"

He didn't miss the way Barton's face went still. That was usually the reaction of someone who had lived through the worst type of abuse or torture. Bucky would know. He'd lived through it, and handed it out.

"The god that surprised me? Took over my mind. Turned me into the perfect tool against S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers. A lot of people that I worked with died because of that." Barton's eyes flicked to meet his. "This is also how I know that it takes a while for Fury to forgive an assassination attempt. I shot him in the chest."

Bucky blinked. "He survived. Maybe you weren't trying hard enough."

The archer snorted. "He was wearing a bulletproof vest at the time. He survived your attempt too."

"I wasn't trying to kill him. I was trying to draw out Captain America."

"That didn't work out quite the way you were expecting."

Bucky snorted. "No. But I'm glad it worked out like it did. Now…"

Barton grinned hard, stretching his arms up over his head. "There's this woman I know. Not an agent. She was saved by a S.H.I.E.L.D agent once, and since then she's been…available. She's has had experience being around agents with our…unique...issues."

This had to be one of the most uncomfortable conversations Bucky had ever had. "So she knows how to keep herself safe?" Because that was a huge concern. He didn't know what he would do in that situation. It had been a long time. A very long time.

Barton nodded. "Yeah. If you want…I'll contact her."

Bucky was curious. "She's not…picky?"

The archer rolled his eyes. "No. She's willing to help any agent that might need…help…that way. Gender isn't important either."

Well if that didn't make his pants a little tighter, imagining some girl on girl action. The part of him that remembered his time as the Winter Soldier didn't even blink, but his core identity hadn't ever even really considered something like that. At least, not as anything other than a wild imagining. And he desperately needed the help this woman could offer. Taking care of things himself wasn't very satisfying, and the sounds of Steve and Darcy's enjoyment kept echoing in his head.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah. Please."

Barton popped to his feet. "Okay. I'll set things up. She has automatic clearance for this type of thing."

"A S.H.I.E.L.D approved camp follower?" Bucky asked, using the only term he could think of to describe it.

"Something like that, yeah. Try not to go stir crazy here, okay?"

That was going to be an issue, but he'd deal with it.


	6. Chapter 6

Ugh. This chapter is awful. So full of pain and torment toward the end. Grr. I promise – it'll be worth it in the end. Read at your own risk.

There's a bit of intrigue added in this chapter. I'm curious to what everyone thinks about it.

* * *

Her name was Tessa. She was gentle and kind – a balm to Bucky's tormented psyche.

Barton brought her to visit on the second day of Bucky being on his own. It was a good thing, too. The windowless apartment was growing smaller and smaller. The sounds of the television couldn't distract him from the fact that he was alone. He had become used to the warmth associated with Steve and Darcy, and their sounds. Now, it was as if he were back in the cold of the Winter Soldier. Alone and unloved. Not a person, but a weapon to be brought out and used when needed. Weapons didn't need company.

Barton's phone call, advising of pending company, was a welcome distraction. Bucky absently checked himself in the bathroom mirror, winced at what he saw, then shrugged and called it good enough. The long hair was tangled and greasy, and there was heavy stubble on his cheeks. His clothes were wrinkled because he'd slept in them and not bothered changing when he woke up. He looked like the person who had recently been deprogrammed from being an assassin and was now alone with the thoughts in his heads. A far cry from his lady's man of the past, but if this woman was a sure thing, he didn't have to try to impress her.

Barton's knock distracted him from his own thoughts, and Bucky hastened to stand before the door, staying back so his visitors could enter.

The woman wasn't what he'd been expecting. She was tall, nearly as tall as Bucky, with a willowy frame and wavy blond hair. Unlike the vibrant personality of Darcy, or the steely strength of Natasha, this woman exuded an air of quiet calm. She stepped forward to offer her hand when Barton introduced her, and enveloped Bucky's hand in both of hers.

"You've been through a lot," she acknowledged in a quiet, soothing voice, staring into his eyes. Hers were a soft, welcoming brown. "Forget all of that for now."

Barton knew when he wasn't needed, and withdrew swiftly. Bemused, Bucky allowed himself to be drawn toward his bedroom. All the torment of the past few months swirled within him, desperate for a physical outlet, and just that quickly, he was almost incapable of walking. It seemed like all the angst had flowed south, along with his blood supply.

Thankfully, Tessa seemed to realize he wasn't in the mood for talking. She tended to him with gentle hands and no judgment, removing his clothing. She smiled in wonder at the fake arm, running her hands along the seam where it joined his shoulder, and raising a questioning eyebrow, hands freezing when he shuddered.

"No, it's okay. Just…not used to people touching it."

He felt like a blushing virgin as her soft hands touched him, unable to control the shaking of his body. It had been so long…

She guided him to the bed, pressing him down softly, and stretching out to lie beside him. "Do you prefer to be dominant or passive?" she asked, stroking one hand along his cheek.

Bucky was always the dominant one. Before the war, when he became a Russian assassin, then the Winter Soldier, he was always in charge. But he wasn't any of those people anymore. "Passive," he croaked out. "But…I'm not sure…"

She pushed at his shoulder to get him to roll over onto his back. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

He watched, transfixed, as she slowly removed her own clothing. When her naked body was exposed, she raised an eyebrow at him, as if in challenge. The right side of her body, from shoulder to hip, was covered in shiny burn scars.

He reached out to touch those scars, smoother than he would have thought they'd be. "This happen when you got saved by a S.H.I.E.L.D agent?"

Tessa settled over him, knees on either side of his abdomen, pert ass perched on his stomach. "Yes. There was a giant monster rampaging through Harlem. Everything was on fire, and I was unconscious. The agent pulled me free, got me immediate medical attention so I didn't die. He certainly didn't have to. But he did." Her face fell. "I didn't even get to thank him. The monster, Blonsky, threw a car on him."

Everyone had demons, Bucky reflected. His current demon was located several inches from where it wanted to be, and it was painfully ready to be exorcised. "So this is how you thank him? By helping others?"

She smiled softly. "It's what I _can_ do." She leaned over, one arm reaching out to the corner of the bed, and picked up a little packet. Condoms had certainly evolved since the 40s. They were probably more effective now, too. Bucky stared, mouth open to draw in air, as she tore the packet open and swiveled at the waist so she could roll it on. He nearly embarrassed himself from just that light touch, hips arching up off the mattress.

"Eager," Tessa noted softly, turning back around to face him. "Tell me if you need me to stop."

Bucky couldn't even think coherently anymore, much less vocalize anything. He did manage a guttural groan once he was seated inside of her, and for a few minutes, there was only the sounds of harsh breathing and the slap of flesh meeting flesh. Entirely too soon, he was digging his heels into the mattress and arching up in release. Tessa stayed poised over him, hands braced against his chest.

"Shit," Bucky groaned when he could speak. "I'm sorry."

The giving goddess sitting on his pelvis smiled down at him. "I'm not here for myself. I'm here for you."

She held true to that statement throughout the night, sometimes being dominant and sometimes passive, whatever Bucky needed. She was exactly what he needed to help soothe his turbulent thoughts and relieve the tension that had been building in the months since he'd come back to himself. The tension that had been exacerbated by Steve and Darcy's relationship.

By morning, he was completely exhausted, but in a good way. Bucky sprawled out, conscious of the drying sweat on his body, and thought fleetingly of getting a shower, but couldn't bring himself to get up.

Tessa was pulling her clothes back on. It looked like she was preparing to leave, and the thought of being alone again left a sour taste in Bucky's mouth. He propped himself up on his elbows. "You don't have to go," he offered hesitantly.

Her smile was a touch sad. "I do have to go. There's someone else who needs me later today, and I need to sleep and recuperate a little bit before then." The smile widened. "You have a very short recovery time. I wasn't expecting that. You'll make someone very happy someday, if you allow yourself to."

That was too insightful for someone who'd been in his presence for only half a day. Bucky swallowed hard, hoping he didn't look as pathetic as he felt. So damn needy, and not wanting to be alone. "Thank you, for helping me."

She smiled and walked back over to the bed to lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. "It was my pleasure."

He didn't bother to get up to see her out. It was only a few steps from the door of the bedroom to the outside door anyhow, and he didn't want to be staring after her like a drowning man. The click of the door closing, shutting him back in with himself, was very loud.

He did finally rouse himself to shower, washing off the sweat of the night's pleasure. It had been very enjoyable, but he was left feeling empty. The brief comfort of a woman's embrace quickly ebbed when realizing that the only reason she'd been with him was because someone had asked her to.

After the shower, it became inevitable. Bucky had to sleep. He hadn't. Not since leaving Steve and Darcy, but the marathon bout of physical activity had drained the last of his reserves, and not even his stubborn will could keep him awake anymore. Even an enhanced body needed to recharge. He might actually need to eat soon too. But not before sleep.

* * *

Barton stopped in a couple of times a week over the next three weeks just to chat, or so he said. Bucky wasn't stupid. Steve or Darcy or both had probably asked the archer to check up on him. They were probably getting quite the juicy reports, because he was a mess. The silence was deafening, and without other people talking to him, the guilt and voices in Bucky's head were too loud to be drowned out. When they got too loud, he broke something, and the clamor in his head receded for a little while.

The apartment was a mess.

He was not expecting, and therefore was completely unprepared, for a visitor from S.H.I.E.L.D's upper echelon. Bucky was working out, doing pushups on the living room floor, when he heard the door being unlocked. S.H.I.E.L.D tried to maintain the illusion that this wasn't a cell, but the door could only be locked or unlocked from the outside, so that illusion had failed within the first day.

Barton always texted before one of his visits, so Bucky had no idea who was entering his space. He sprang from a prone position up into a wary crouch, hand reaching out for a broken piece dinner plate that had been thrown against the wall.

The man who entered, with two S.H.I.E.L.D agents acting as his guard, was older, clean cut, wearing a suit. A bureaucrat then. Bucky unwound from his crouch and stood, folding his arms across his chest, but not relinquishing the shard of broken plate in his hand.

"What do you want?"

"Sergeant Barnes. You've been enjoying S.H.I.E.L.D hospitality for some time now."

No attempt to introduce himself. The arrogance of a bureaucrat too. The two agents flanking him…didn't really look like agents. More like mercenaries. Bucky's internal alarms went off. He didn't like this.

He shrugged. "Since S.H.I.E.L.D doesn't trust me on my own, I don't have a choice but to enjoy the…hospitality." He spit out the word, so they would know what he thought of it.

Suit smiled, and it did nothing to quell the feeling of wrongness in Bucky's gut. "Nothing comes for free in this world, Sergeant Barnes. Considerable resources have been expended on your treatment and upkeep. It's time for you to start earning your keep."

Bucky's eyes narrowed, and every instinct in his body went on even higher alert. "What did you have in mind?"

"There are enemies of S.H.I.E.L.D that need to be eliminated. You have talents unique to that problem."

Bile rose in the back of Bucky's throat so swiftly he nearly gagged. "No, actually, I don't. The Winter Soldier did, but the Winter Soldier is gone." He used every bit of self-control that he possessed to keep his body from trembling. He had been afraid of this. Afraid that someone would want to utilize his death dealing skills.

Suit's eyes narrowed, and his smile turned hard. "Those skills are still with you. It is easy enough to condition you to utilize them again."

"Get out," Bucky snarled. His arms unfolded, coming down to his sides, ready for action. Would they try to take him by force?

Suit's eyes flickered down to the plate shard still clenched in Bucky's fist, then back up to his face. "Disappointing, Sergeant. Ah, well….you haven't had enough time yet to truly consider my offer." He cast a quick look around. "I suspect that at some point, doing anything will be preferable to staying here. I prefer to have your compliance in this. It makes things…easier. I'll be back."

"Don't bother!"

Bucky didn't relax until the door shut behind them and the lock re-engaged. Then, he just stood there for several minutes, shaking in suppressed fury, trying to overcome it, but it was rising like a tide inside of him.

With an enraged cry, he set about systematically destroying everything in the apartment with as much violence as possible. Was this what Steve's intervention had shielded him from when he first recovered? Would S.H.I.E.L.D have deprogrammed him only to reprogram him for their own purposes?

He was vaguely aware, at some point, of someone opening the door. His reaction was pure instinct – Bucky threw a cabinet door at the intruder. Red hair flashed in his vision as the intruder dodged and then darted toward him. Fight instincts kicked in, and he sent a barrage of household items toward the intruder, but she was fast. In a complicated move, she dove at him, legs winding around his and bringing him crashing to the floor. Bucky tried to roll away, but those legs locked around his neck, cutting off his air supply.

"Stand down, Barnes," a voice hissed in his ear. "It's Natasha."

It wasn't until his vision was beginning to go gray that his fight instinct told him it was okay to stand down. Bucky slumped, and Natasha immediately released her leg lock on his neck. Air rushed back into his lungs, and he coughed violently until it eased.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting up behind him and bending over so he could see her.

Bucky didn't answer, just curled up into a ball. She was S.H.I.E.L.D, and probably here to present Suit's idea in a different fashion. Knowing Natasha, it would be a practical presentation that he would be hard pressed to refuse. After all, what does a former assassin do for a living?

"James?" She had taken to calling him that. He was no longer Yasha, and didn't want to be reminded of that time, and Natasha respected that. The few times she had used a first name with him since his recovery, it had been James.

"Get out," he said dully. "Tell them no. There's not anything they can say to convince me."

"Who?"

Ah. Playing ignorance. Apparently, she was to be the sympathetic ear in opposition to Suit's hard-ass proposal.

"Get out," he repeated.

There was a long moment of silence, but then finally he heard her rise and depart. The click of the outside lock engaging was very loud.

* * *

Tearing apart the apartment hadn't made him feel any better. He was lonely and haunted, with only his own thoughts for company. Bucky finally managed to drag his sore and slightly beat up body into his bedroom, but the pillows still held a slight scent of Tessa, reminding him that he was a freak and desperately alone.

The sound of the outside door opening didn't even rouse him. He simply didn't care right now. Bucky threw the fake arm over his eyes and resolved to ignore whoever was coming in to brave the wreckage. He heard careful footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, winding their way through the debris littering the floor.

He smelled it first – the warm, fragrant scent of pumpkin spice coffee. It sent his stomach plummeting toward his backbone in despair. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Barnes?"

She was inside the bedroom. The smell of coffee, of his salvation and peace, was overwhelming. Bucky turned on his side away from it.

"Your hand…" she trailed off.

It was streaked with blood, he knew. The skin of his knuckles had split after repeatedly punching unyielding objects and tearing apart breakable things, and blood had run down his real arm. It didn't matter. Bucky wanted to be alone with his darkness. He didn't want to dim anyone else's light.

"Go away, pumpkin." His voice was strangled, hoarse from screaming in rage and loneliness.

"God, Bucky." He twitched. She didn't call him Bucky often. Hardly ever. A hand fell on his real shoulder, warm and forgiving. "Why did you do this? What's wrong? Why did you push us away?"

He stiffened. Us. That's why he pushed them away. They had something he apparently never would and it was painful to be around. He could remember when _he_ was the most important person in Steve's life. At the beginning of his recovery, he was first in both of their priorities. But gradually, as they saw he was back to stay, their focus shifted back to each other and he was left alone in the cold again.

"Go away," he said again, eyes squeezed shut.

"No."

He felt the bed dip behind him, and arms slid around his shoulders. A face pressed into his back, and Bucky shuddered. This was torture.

"Natasha said you needed us. She said it was bad, that you were letting it consume you. Why, Barnes? Why did you leave us?"

'Us' again. She didn't realize. Bucky pulled away from her and slid across the bed, popping to his feet on the other side. "I don't know how Steve put up with it, before the serum. He's a stronger man than I am, I guess. I can't stand being the unequal part of the group. So take your 'us' and go."

She didn't say anything for a while, standing silently on the other side of the bed. Bucky didn't turn to see her. He didn't want to see her. He just clenched his fists, wishing she would go.

"Is this what you really want?" she asked softly. "You want to be alone, locked in a windowless apartment, watched by S.H.I.E.L.D agents constantly."

"It's better than the alternative." Constantly casting his shadow on their light. Of course, he wouldn't stay locked in here for long. Suit would come back for him, take him in for re-conditioning so he could become an assassin for S.H.I.E.L.D. He would be let out on assignments, and locked in when not needed. Hell, they might as well put him back in cryostasis when not needed. He would become exactly what Steve and Darcy had saved him from.

Really, what other future did he have?

The gentle hand on his arm nearly undid him. The coffee that appeared in his line of sight was salvation. Bucky seized it, ignoring the startled eep from Darcy's mouth, and drank the whole thing without stopping. It burned his mouth and throat, but he didn't care. The taste was a reminder that someone cared about him, Bucky Barnes, and not the Winter Soldier. It was also a reminder of what he didn't have.

"You need to go, pumpkin."

Instead, she wrapped her arms around him from behind. "I miss you. Steve misses you. You became a part of our life, a huge part, and then you just left us."

"I'm not your love child," he whispered, remembering her joking of just that once or twice. "I can't, Darcy. I can't be around the two of you."

"Why not?" she cried into his back. "Were we that horrible to you? I don't understand! Steve doesn't understand. He misses his best friend."

Bucky slumped, hands sliding over her arms, and beginning the painful process of unwinding them from around his torso. "I miss both of you," he admitted. "But I don't want to be around you anymore." Better to cut the ties, before he was programmed to be a S.H.I.E.L.D assassin. S.H.I.E.L.D would probably erase them anyhow. The thought closed his throat in despair. He didn't want to lose them, but he couldn't imagine that S.H.I.E.L.D would let them stay in his head. They would be a distraction to him completing his missions.

The sob from behind him was agonizing. Bucky turned slowly, and drank in the sight of her. The tears streaming from her eyes nearly killed him. "Don't cry, pumpkin. It's for the best."

He wasn't expecting her to burrow into him, arms pulling free of his hands and sliding around him in a tight hug. "Best for who, Bucky? I'm miserable. Steve's miserable. From the looks of things here – you're losing what you fought so hard to gain. So how is it best?"

He stared down at the top of her head, trying so hard to deny the feelings he felt. Slowly, against every smart thought in his head, his arms rose to slide around her shoulders. He felt the little sigh she gave as she pressed even closer. He wanted this moment. Wanted to treasure it until it was taken away from him. He bent his head and pressed his mouth to her hair, inhaling the familiar fruity scent of her shampoo. For a moment, he could imagine that she was there just for him, that there wasn't a giant elephant named Steve in the apartment with them.

Where was Steve? Why would he trust his girl to come see the crazy man by herself?

"Where is Steve?" he asked softly, mouth moving against her hair.

Darcy's arms tightened around him. "He's doing some publicity thing with Stark for the Avengers."

"He hates those things."

"But he understands why they need done. Please come back with me, Barnes. Please. Seeing you like this would kill Steve."

The moment passed. Bucky straightened, muscles going rigid, closing himself off. "I said no. You need to go, pumpkin. Thanks for the coffee. Haven't had any since I left."

Darcy felt the difference, and slowly pulled back, tilting her head up so she could look at him. Bucky steeled himself, wanting to get lost in her eyes, but never forgetting that she only came to him via Steve. He flinched when one of her hands rose to slide against his cheek.

"Go, Darcy. Go back to Steve."

She stepped back, lower lip trembling in an effort to hold in tears. "Can he…can he come see you?"

Bucky turned away from her. "It's better if he doesn't, pumpkin." Let Steve remember Bucky, before Bucky was turned back into a killing machine. It was only a matter of time.

He heard her quiet huff as she tried to hold in a sob. Then she moved away and the outside door opened and shut behind her. To Bucky, it was like the nailing of a coffin lid.

He threw himself back down on the bed, wishing desperately that he had never been awakened. It would be so much easier…


	7. Chapter 7

Whew! Lotta action in this one, and more intrigue! Not quite as much angst as the last chapter. It went slightly off direction to where I thought it would go, but I'm happy with the end result.

* * *

He didn't see anyone for a week.

The television was gone. It had been a casualty of the Suit visit. He was left to pace the boundaries of his confinement, completely isolated from all human contact, staring at the walls or the ceiling. It wasn't healthy, and he knew it, but something in his spirit felt like it had broken, and Bucky was full of despair.

Sometimes he slept. When he did, the dreams were usually terrible memories of what he had done as the Winter Soldier. Or worse, his subconscious tortured him with betrayal: Steve turning him over to Suit, or him stealing Darcy away from Steve. The expression on his best friend's face in either dream tortured him. In the first, Steve bore an eerie resemblance Zola, grinning in delight at the emotional pain Bucky felt when he was handed over to Suit for reconditioning. In the second, Steve was broken, a shell of a man after the betrayal by his girl and his best friend.

Sleep wasn't a great idea. That left pacing, or working out in the limited space available. There wasn't much left to destroy, so that wasn't an option. Bucky also refused to clean up the mess he'd made. A deep part of him reveled in the destruction he'd caused. It seemed to be the only thing that was under his control.

He was very close to losing his mind completely after the sixth day of not having anyone to distract him from himself. Unexpected salvation occurred early afternoon on the seventh day when he heard a commotion in the hallway outside. Since even S.H.I.E.L.D related business was a welcome distraction from his own dark thoughts, Bucky drifted over to the door, picking his way carefully through the destruction he'd caused.

"You're being reassigned," he heard. "All Level 2 and above agents in this building are to report outside."

"What's going on?" another voice asked.

"Unknown."

Hmm…some excitement in the world of S.H.I.E.L.D? Bucky wondered what was happening. At this point, even oblivion was preferable to the long hours of nothing. Why would only the lowest level agents be left on guard? Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D was done holding security risks. But if the building's occupants were being liquidated, wouldn't higher level agents be preferable?

Then his stomach dropped. Suit was coming, and he didn't want anyone to know what was going to be done to Bucky. So, easily intimidated agents, Level Ones only.

To hell with that. Bucky would rather die than go back to being an assassin. He slid away from the door, and turned to look over the destruction. Ah. The remains of the bed frame, twisted into angry shapes, should suffice. He scooped it off the floor, pinching off the twisted metal at certain spots to have two lethal swords.

Then he drifted back over to the door to wait. It wasn't long before he heard other voices outside.

"Sir, what's going on?"

"All Level 2 and above agents on guard duty were reassigned. There's been an…incident. Why are you still here?"

"Two days and one certification away from Level 2, sir. My physical certification got pushed back. I was in the group that got sent to London to round up that alien monster that was chasing birds. It sort of threw me through a building. Broke my leg in four places."

"I forgot about that. I'm promoting you, congratulations. Captain Rogers' girlfriend was snatched out of the coffee shop she always visits this morning."

Bucky froze. No. Darcy snatched? What?

"The captain has reacted…poorly. Word from above is that they don't want their golden boy heading out on some vindictive crusade, it would tarnish his image. So the captain has to be detained."

Bucky's stomach nearly dropped to his feet. He felt a flash of heat move through him, followed by ice cold. They were 'detaining' Steve to keep him from rescuing Darcy? To protect his public image? Were they fucking stupid?

The newly promoted Level 2 agent outside his door seemed to agree. "We're detaining Captain America when his girl has been kidnapped? How, exactly?"

The voice of the upper level agent was weary. "Shot him with tranqs. It slowed him down enough that we could secure him with adamantium restraints, but we have to keep pumping tranqs into him."

Rage rose in a red tide inside Bucky's head, clouding his vision. They were fucking tranquilizing Steve to keep him from going after Darcy? When the hell did Steve become an enemy of S.H.I.E.L.D?

"Sir…that seems dead wrong."

"Just…just follow orders, agent. Here's the address of the Captain's apartment. Do not discuss this with anyone else except the agents on site. We have very strict orders to keep this under wraps."

So the other Avengers didn't find out. Because they would liberate Steve and hunt down Darcy immediately. What the hell was S.H.I.E.L.D thinking? Who was running this fiasco?

Bucky took a step back from the door. Purpose, after so long being without it, felt good. His best friend needed him. He had to get to Steve, and then…then they would go get Darcy. And anyone who got in Bucky's way was going to regret it.

It felt as if a switch inside of him flipped over from broken to driven. Bucky curled his hands tightly around his makeshift weapons, took two more steps back from the door, then exploded into forward motion.

The door never stood a chance. It buckled outward, spilling Bucky to the hallway floor. He rolled smoothly to his feet and disarmed both agents without blinking. They gaped stupidly at him, and a well-placed hit from his bed frame swords put both of them down, unconscious. Bucky took the Level 4 badge but left the guns behind, moving toward the stairs with purposeful strides. He didn't want to kill the grunts who were just following orders. But he would track down the idiot in charge. This was a whole new level of insanity.

He took the steps six at a time, body remembering the fluid agility that came with being the Winter Soldier. He barely touched the surface of the step before leaping to the next one, all muscles finely tuned and keeping him moving in a graceful descent.

He had to get to Steve. Steve would be frantic with worry. And Darcy! Why had she been grabbed? To use against Steve? To use against Thor? Information? Would they dare harm her? Darcy would be terrified, or worse, she would be sassing her kidnappers, trying to hide her fear.

The possibilities welled up in his head, finding fuel in the memories he didn't want to remember. How long had she been gone? What was happening to her? Was it someone with a grudge against Steve that had grabbed her?

Brain in overdrive, Bucky hit the street level door in mid jump. It exploded outward and he rode it to the ground like a surfboard, skating across a sidewalk and coming to a halt in the street. Bucky kept moving, smoothly dodging traffic, tuning out the honking horns and screeching brakes. He reached the other side of the street and did a quick spin, eyes flitting over the scene, looking for agents posted outside. He saw nothing, so orientated himself the way he had first arrived, and began backtracking, striding along the sidewalk as if he belonged there.

He pulled out his cell phone while he moved. Darcy had bought it for him, and that thought made his stomach clench. He hadn't needed it until he'd decided to get away from her and Steve. S.H.I.E.L.D either didn't know about it, or didn't care. Since he'd become chummy with Barton, he also had the man's private cell number. He typed out a quick text, advising of the situation and that he was going to free Steve. If Barton was able to pass that on, the Avengers would very shortly be involved.

His bed frame swords were attracting too much attention, so Bucky discarded them in the nearest trash bin. He needed to make better time, though, so casually moved to a motorcycle parked along the street. He'd learned all kinds of useful skills as the Winter Soldier, among them hotwiring vehicles and the ability to look like he was supposed to be doing what he was doing. If anyone was suspicious of his actions, they hid it well.

The motorcycle roared to life, and Bucky gunned it into the street, weaving in and out of traffic skillfully. His eyes flitted around, never resting, watching for law enforcement. It wouldn't do to get into a chase situation. He didn't want policemen to get involved in this situation. It wouldn't end well for them.

He made excellent time, and was soon approaching Steve and Darcy's building. Bucky pulled the motorcycle into a side street and parked it, scanning for agents. They had to have people stationed outside, but he didn't spot any of them. There were no suits, so if there were agents, they were dressed casually.

The direct approach was out. His arm was too noticable, and any S.H.I.E.L.D agent would immediately identify him from that. But…he had skills.

He took a circuitous route to the building, coming in from behind it. There was an entrance in the back as well, but that wasn't what Bucky was aiming for. He was more concerned with the light pole by the corner of the building, near the dumpster area. One thing the mechanical arm was good for was for gripping things that normal hands could not. He could squeeze tight enough with the metal hand to not slip as he scaled his way up the pole. And hope that no one was looking.

At the top of the light pole, he pulled himself up onto the lamp, utilizing the insane balance skills that apparently came with the super soldier serum, even the subpar version inside him. Then, still hoping no one noticed him, he bunched the muscles in his legs and leaped up toward the building. More specifically, toward a third floor balcony on the corner.

He knew instantly that he wouldn't get the height he was hoping for, and recalculated his options. The metal hand shot out and grabbed the base of a balcony post. It crunched alarmingly when his body reached the apex of its jump and dropped toward the ground, but the post held together. Bucky gritted his teeth, hating that he was suddenly reliant on the metal arm, and reached up with his real hand to get another handhold. Then, with a bunching of his arm and shoulder muscles, he pulled sharply upward, and popped up over the balcony balustrade, landing lightly on his feet.

On a better day, he'd pick the lock on the balcony doors and slip into the apartment attached to it, but he had no lock picking tools with him. Bucky wrapped the metal hand in the tail of his shirt and punched through the balcony door. The sound of breaking glass was minimal, and he reached through to unlock the door and step into the apartment. It was dark inside, so luck was with him. He moved swiftly through the apartment to the door, and stepped out, eyes darting both ways. It was clear on this floor. Steve and Darcy's apartment was on the eighth floor, so he needed to navigate up five floors, most likely through a shit ton of S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

Bucky broke into a run, and found the stairwell door quickly. He pushed it open and darted in, eyes sweeping for agents, but the stairs were clear, so far. Rather than the boisterous descent he'd made in his escape, he opted for stealth on this invasion, gliding up the stairs on the balls of his feet. Every sense was on alert, straining to hear sounds of someone else, nose flared to try to catch any scents.

He could hear them from a floor below, voices shouting instructions, and a slurred angry shout rising above everything else. They couldn't keep Steve sedated, because of the serum, but they were keeping him groggy enough to hold him. Bucky's rage flared again. How dare they?

He came to a halt, muscles tensed and ready to fight, and considered his options. He had no idea how many agents were up there. A frontal assault would be foolish. They would end him before he even got close to Steve. While he healed faster than normal people, enough bullets would kill him. So, infiltration from where it would least be expected.

The Winter Soldier's campaign to draw out Captain America had been without any of the subtly he was skilled in. With any luck, S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't anticipate what he could do.

Bucky left the stairwell on the seventh floor, and took a moment to get himself oriented. The details he had noticed when leaving Steve and Darcy's apartment were immediately available when he wanted them, another side effect of being trained as a super assassin. He absorbed and stored situational details like a computer. This floor mirrored the one above, so he loped though the hallways until he found the apartment directly under Steve and Darcy's. Then he knocked.

Luck was not with him this time. He felt footsteps coming across the floor, and then a long pause. Bucky noted the peephole in the door and assumed he was being looked at. His greasy tangled hair and stubbled cheeks probably weren't inspiring a sense of security, so he slid a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out the S.H.I.E.L.D badge he'd swiped, holding it up to the peephole. After another measured pause, he heard locks disengaging.

A middle aged man with graying hair opened the door cautiously. The way he stood told Bucky that he held some kind of weapon behind the door. "Yes?"

"Good evening sir. Agent Barnes. There is a security hazard in the building. For your safety, we need you to vacate the building. There is a coffee shop across the street with a temporary staging area. Please go there immediately. Use the stairwell, the elevator is not safe. We only have minutes to secure the building. After that, I cannot guarantee your safety."

He spun away to the next door and repeated what he'd just said when another tenant answered, without even looking at the first apartment. The next two doors yielded no answer, and Bucky turned back in time to see the stairwell door closing behind the two tenants. He waited two minutes, then walked back to the first apartment and forced the door open with his metal shoulder.

He closed the door behind him and took a quick look around. The apartment was slightly different than the one right above, but he knew where he wanted to be. Bucky grabbed a chair from the kitchen and measured off several steps until he stood in the master bedroom. Right above was his old room. Hopefully S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't using it.

He needed a distraction. Bucky picked up the round metal trashcan he'd noted when entering the apartment, and took it back to the stairwell. He placed it on its side, then gave it a little push and ducked back out onto the floor, smiling in grim satisfaction as he heard the clanging from behind the stairwell door. Shouts from above told him it had worked, so he darted back to the apartment and up onto the chair as fast as he could.

Metal arm extended above his head, hand fisted, he jumped straight up. The metal hand broke through the ceiling and the floor above it. Bucky dropped back down to the chair, switched arms, and jumped up again. His real hand curled around the jagged edge of the hole, latching on to a floor beam, and it creaked but held his weight. Ignoring the jagged edges that were cutting his palm, he reached up with the metal hand to pull at the surrounding area, widening the hole.

To him, the sounds he was making were extraordinarily loud, but the area above did not light up. Then again, they might just be waiting. He had chosen to break through in the closet of his room, and he could easily envision a gathering of agents waiting outside the closet door, ready to shoot him.

When the hole was wide enough to fit his shoulders, Bucky once again bunched his arm muscles and pulled, popping up through the hole and landing silently in the dark closet. He froze, listening for signs of agents outside of the closet, but the room outside was dark, and the only thing he _could_ hear was Steve's slurred shouting - so very close now. His friend was pissed. Based on the direction his voice came from, they had him in the living room area.

What was available to use in his room? His assassin trained mind inventoried what he had left behind. There were assorted items, gifts from Darcy mostly, that could be thrown to knock someone out. Something that could obviously be used as a weapon would not be available. The three of them had tried to assassin-proof the apartment after his dream-walking incident, in addition to allowing Stark to install a subroutine of his AI, Jarvis, to monitor…

Well shit. Bucky smiled hard. The version of Jarvis that had been installed had the capability of putting him down, like Stark Tower's defense protocols had when he'd been the Winter Soldier. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut briefly, hoping against hope that Steve and Darcy had not disabled the program with his absence.

The main console was in his room. Unlike Stark's homes or places of business, this was a relatively limited version of Jarvis, and functioned primarily from the console.

He opened his eyes and slid the closet door open slowly, still anticipating being on the wrong end of about a dozen guns, but the dark room was empty. The bedroom door was closed, so he was secure for a moment. Steve was making enough noise that any creaking of the floor shouldn't be noticed. Bucky crossed to the wall panel on light feet, and then paused.

It was targeted to his biology, and would shock the hell out of him if he touched it. That was a safety feature to prevent him from dismantling it.

"Jarvis?" he inquired in barely a whisper.

He heard a soft whirring, something an ordinary ear wouldn't pick up, especially over Steve's drugged shouts nearby, and a green light lit up on the console. He knew the unit had audio capabilities, because it had spoken to Stark when the billionaire had installed it.

The cocky hero was so much like his father that Bucky felt a severe case of déjà vu when Stark had come strolling into the apartment as if he owned it. It had knocked his head off balance, and left him doubting his current reality. Steve had noticed his rapid fire eye blinking and bracing hand on one wall, and immediately set about reassuring him. Bucky struggled with it, though, and finally Steve had suggested a walk outside. Stark had made some type of sarcastic comment before they went, and Steve used his cell phone to stay in touch with Darcy so that he knew when it was safe to return. They did so after Stark was gone, and Darcy had complained about the AI talking to Stark while it was being installed.

"It was in pieces on the floor, but it was talking to him," she'd complained. "That's just wrong."

He hoped it could still do so. "Jarvis?" he whispered again.

"Sergeant Barnes," the voice was barely audible, which was truly terrifying if Bucky thought about it for too long. It meant that the AI had assessed the situation and had the programming necessary to realize that secrecy was needed. "My systems are coming online, one moment."

Every moment was an eternity. One moment longer that Darcy was in unfriendly hands, and Steve was being dishonored by the very agency he worked for.

"All systems are now online. Do you wish to have the current situation reported to Mr. Stark?"

"Yes. Can you tell me how many agents are in the apartment?"

"There are ten S.H.I.E.L.D agents currently in the apartment. My sensors do not extend beyond the apartment, but it seems prudent to assume there are more agents outside the apartment."

As the Winter Soldier, he could have easily killed ten agents before they even knew there was a problem. But Bucky didn't want to kill. Not these people.

"What are your capabilities? Can you put any of them or all of them down?"

"The system capabilities should be able to neutralize five agents, but they will need to pass between the arrays."

Bucky nodded. Located in the walls outside his room and on the way toward the outside door, the tiny metal arrays were capable of generating a cross charge that could put him down.

"Barnes," another voice whispered through the wall console.

"Stark?" he answered.

"Jarvis just notified me that his systems came online in Capsicle's apartment, and that you're there. Barton assembled us – Darcy's been snatched?"

"Yes. They're detaining Steve. Someone at S.H.I.E.L.D has lost their mind," Bucky snarled as softly as he could. "What can you do?"

"Jarvis is hacking their system, to get any information about Darcy's kidnapping that can be found. We're on our way, but will reroute if we get more information on little spitfire. Barton is leaking that information, to help create a distraction. You're springing the Cap?"

"Damn straight. They've been pumping him with tranqs, to keep him controllable. As soon as that stops, it's gonna clear out of his system, and Steve is gonna be very angry."

Stark's voice was almost gleeful. "Have at it, then. Jarvis is at your complete disposal."

Bucky was practically crawling out of his own skin now. It was time to free Steve. "How do we get them back here?"

"My arrays also have holographic projectors. Might I suggest that you arm yourself, Sergeant Barnes? I will provide bait."

Bucky made a quick circuit of the room, picking up an armful of items that could be thrown, and returned to the console. "Let's do this."

Right outside the bedroom door, he heard Stark's voice, masterfully copied. "Uh hey agents. Can we crash this party?"

Running footsteps announced that the bait was successful. Bucky waited tensely. A loud sizzle sounded, followed by the thuds of bodies dropping to the floor. That elicited alarmed cries, followed by more running footsteps, and that was his cue.

Bucky exploded out of the bedroom, tossing three baseballs, a hand weight, and a solid glass paperweight at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents who were running to help their downed comrades. His aim was devastating, and they dropped before they even realized there was a problem. He kept moving, heading toward the living room area, eyes sweeping for other agents. No one else had entered yet.

Steve was secured in a heavy duty metal chair that looked like it belonged in a mad scientist's lab. It had been bolted to the floor. There was an intravenous needle in Steve's arm, and glittering metal restraints swathing his arms, legs and torso. The sight ignited Bucky's rage, and he lunged forward to rip the needle from Steve's arm.

Glazed blue eyes turned up to look at him, and Steve blinked. "Buck?" he asked groggily, voice hoarse from shouting.

"You'll be yourself in a few minutes," he assured, biting off every word. Then he reached out with the metal hand and strained against the metal bands securing Steve to the chair. While the bands were adamantium, the metal chair was not, and he just started tearing the restraints out of the chair.

Shouts from outside the apartment told Bucky that his time was up. He tore one final restraint free and spun, picking up the coffee table as he did so. Agents were pouring into the apartment. Bucky dove across the room and slammed the coffee table into the front runners, pushing them out. He caught a brief glimpse of too many more out in the hallway before popping to his feet and slamming the door shut. The coffee table served as an impromptu brace for the door, and he also dragged the sofa in front of it.

"Someone is gonna get hurt for this," the voice at his back snarled.

Bucky turned. Steve had freed himself from the chair, and was standing, albeit shakily. The door would hold for now. He flowed across the room to Steve's side, lending a shoulder when the blond listed to one side dangerously.

Steve patted him on the chest. "You came for me," he slurred, blue eyes boring into Bucky's face.

"Of course." He could literally see the tranquilizers being metabolized, as portions of Steve's body went from slack to normal.

"You…you…I am so mad at you right now."

Bucky felt his stomach twist violently. "Later. Let's go get your girl."

Steve straightened, pulling away from him and heading toward the bedroom with purposeful strides. Bucky watched him go, and then quickly dragged the loveseat over in front of the door, inverting it on top of the sofa.

"Catch!"

He turned and caught the bundle of clothing that was tossed at his face. And flung it away as soon as he recognized it. His Winter Soldier gear. No.

Steve's expression was unreadable as he picked it up and walked across the apartment to hand it back. He'd already pulled on his Captain America uniform. "Gear up. Other than my uniform, it's the only thing I have for you to wear that is resistant to knives and bullets."

Bucky shook his head, taking a step back, staring at the bundle like it was live grenade. "No." Why did Steve even have it?

Steve slammed the bundle into his chest, and his other hand fisted in Bucky's shirt, hauling him close. "We're going for Darcy. I need to know that you've got my back, and for that, you need to wear something other than cotton." His face twisted, part rage, part despair. "Now gear up."

Bucky staggered back a step as Steve released him. He stared down at the bundle of clothing in his arms. What if he put it on, and donned more than the clothing?

"I trust you," Steve said softly. "And I need your help to rescue Darcy."

Fuck. Bucky stripped out of his tee shirt and sweats, and pulled the tactical suit on, trying to ignore the way it made his skin crawl. Splintering wood from behind his furniture barricade made him dress hastily. S.H.I.E.L.D was breaking through.

"You have something for me to shoot?" he asked, voice catching.

Steve looked at him measuringly for a moment, then took two steps to his right, to where the loveseat use to be, and stomped down hard on a floorboard. Bucky stared in astonishment as the board flipped up to reveal a deep and narrow weapon locker, brimming with guns. Steve tossed two handguns to him, and took one for himself.

Bucky tucked the guns into his belt and looked up at Steve. "Was this here while I was?"

Steve nodded grimly, securing his shield on his back. "Yes."

Of all the stupid… "That was just dumb, Steve! What if I'd found this when I was dream walking?"

His friend turned away. "I told you I trust you. We've gotta go. They're breaking through. How did you get in?"

Bucky led the way back to his room. When Steve saw the hole in the closet floor, he grinned in appreciation for a moment, before worry fell back onto his shoulders. "We're gonna have a long talk after she's safe," he warned. Then he dropped down through the hole.

Bucky pulled the closet door shut behind him, it would buy them a little time, and followed through after Steve. He took the lead, backtracking out of the apartment. His ears told him that the stairwell was compromised, so he led the way back to the closest corner apartment that was in the back of the building, forced the door open, and headed out to the balcony.

Steve followed him without question when he went over the side of the balcony, swinging briefly from the balustrade, and then dropping to the balcony below. Like this, they worked their way down to street level. Bucky couldn't understand why S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't covering the back, but then he thought back to the reaction of the Level 4 agent he'd overheard. Resignation to the situation, but no conviction that they were doing the right thing. He was willing to bet that they were following their orders to the letter, and not any more than that.

Steve's motorcycle was parked nearby. "I know where Darcy is," he told Bucky, heading toward his bike. "S.H.I.E.L.D has her location, but they wouldn't let me go get her. My relationship with her leaves me…compromised."

Bucky clenched his teeth. "We'll deal with them after she's safe, okay?"

Steve stared at him for a long moment, until Bucky started to feel uncomfortable. "Agreed." He swung himself onto the bike, and Bucky slid on behind him.

"What can we expect?"

"Some kind of mercenary group that I apparently pissed off," Steve responded tightly.

Figures. "Lotta guns and knives?"

"Yep."

"Let's do it."

As Steve gunned the bike into the street, Bucky tried to push all of his conflicting emotions aside. Later it would be time to deal with everything. Right now, they had to rescue Darcy.


	8. Chapter 8

I just want to say thanks to all my fantastic readers! Your encouragement has kept me going. Sorry this update took a little longer, but I was having some trouble making this work like I wanted it to, so I totally cheated, and threw in a little Darcy POV. Without ripping the whole thing apart, it was the only way to share everything I wanted to convey.

I think this is the end of this particular arc of the larger story. Bucky had to go through hell and a little redemption before he was anywhere close to being ready for a relationship, and his journey needed to be told.

* * *

Darcy was being held inside a building in the middle of the warehouse district. Or so S.H.I.E.L.D's information said and Stark confirmed. Steve had contacted the billionaire as soon as they were on the bike. The Avengers had been on route to Steve's apartment to help spring him, but were rerouting to Darcy's location, according to the terse update the captain barked at Bucky once he finished talking to Stark.

The motorcycle trip there was tense. Steve was angry silent and crazy worried about his girl. Bucky could sense all of that without even seeing his face. Between them, there was so much that hadn't been said, anger and hurt, but it was never in question that Bucky would help and Steve needed that help.

He felt dread coiling in his stomach. Steve was so angry and so worried about Darcy that he might do exactly what S.H.I.E.L.D feared, and go on a vindictive rampage. America needed Captain America, in this dark day and age, and Captain America needed to be tarnish free. But wasn't that why Bucky was here? No one cared about his image; it was already tarnished beyond salvation. He could do what needed to be done.

Still, the thought of taking up that mantle again had the bile rising in the back of his throat. What if he couldn't stop? What if he reverted to the monster he'd been?

Some deep part of him ached at the thought of Steve holding on to the Winter Soldier gear. It felt like a betrayal. Was Steve just waiting for him to revert? Had he anticipated S.H.I.E.L.D's desire to utilize the assassin skills? Did he…did he support that idea?

The questions twisted painfully in his gut without answer. Bucky bowed his head, body shifting automatically with the movements of the motorcycle. It was too much he didn't want to think about. They needed to get to Darcy and make sure she was safe. That was all that mattered.

He was too lost in his own problems to register where they were until he felt Steve shifting in front of him. Bucky looked up, internal switch flipping back to assassin mode without even a thought, and barely had time to swear and draw his guns.

Steve preferred the direct approach, it seemed.

He reached up to unhook the shield from Steve's back, legs gripping the motorcycle tight even as they sped toward a warehouse door. Steve wasn't stopping, he was accelerating, and Bucky readied himself for anything.

He felt rather than saw Steve throw something at the warehouse door. Some type of explosive device, Bucky realized, as he watched it stick to the door. Fiery lines flared out from it and then flashed brightly. When Steve gunned the motorcycle right at the burned out spot, Bucky braced himself.

The bike shuddered when it hit the door, but the flash burned metal buckled inward and they were through. Bucky grimaced as a shattered piece of metal dragged along his real arm, and nearly dropped the gun and shield. His conditioning took over, eyes scanning the interior of the warehouse impossibly fast, identifying targets. There were 20 thugs.

Something on the motorcycle gave up with a pang of overstressed metal, it swerved sharply, and Bucky tumbled free. He lost his grip on the shield in the middle of a roll, and popped to his feet. Bullets were already flying toward him, but he was light on his feet and fast, zigzagging in an advance pattern. He wouldn't shoot until…there she was!

Darcy was slumped against one wall, sitting on the floor, hands tied in front of her, with tear tracks down her cheeks. Hope lit up like a beacon in her eyes when she saw who had just crashed into the warehouse. One of the mercenaries stood over her, gun pointed toward the intruders, shouting out orders that didn't make much sense.

The wreckage of the bike flew past Bucky's left shoulder, knocking down at least five thugs, and seconds later, the shield flew past his right, taking out another thug. Steve appeared on his right, arm extended to catch the shield as it bounced back to him, eyes fixed on Darcy. He had no gun in his hands, which was probably a good thing.

"You stay clean," Bucky hissed at him. "You let me do any wetwork."

Steve shot him a hard glance, but then had to focus on the remaining mercenaries, who were advancing with guns blazing.

Fighting at Steve's side, despite everything that had happened since they had last done it, was like operating a well-oiled machine. It was smooth and easy, and everything else seemed to melt away. There was a clear objective in front of them, and bad guys all around, and a need to stay alive until the objective was reached.

Bucky drew his guns, still gracefully sliding away from bullets, and looked to Steve for the offer. It always happened and Steve didn't disappoint. In his ringing Captain voice, he advised the men with the guns to lay down their weapons and their lives would be spared. Steve didn't expect them to, and when they didn't, he gave Bucky the nod.

Three well placed shots brought down three men. Bucky ducked as one man got too close, desperately swinging his now empty gun at Bucky's head. Assassin skills took over, guns tucked into his belt, hands shooting out to snatch the empty gun from the man's hands. He followed through with a quick jab to the man's temple, rendering him unconscious. The guns were pulled back out, even as he backtracked to Steve, who was fighting three men at once. Bucky helpfully clubbed one in the temple with the butt of his gun and Steve smoothly took down the other two.

The remaining men retreated, squeezing off desperate shots if they still had ammo.

The man who'd been barking desperate orders grabbed Darcy by the arm, hauling her to her feet and pressing a gun to her temple. Bucky spat out a curse as Steve froze, ignoring everything else but his girl, and took a bullet in the shoulder. Darcy shrieked as Steve dropped, blood blossoming immediately on the uniform. Bucky didn't hesitate, squeezing off one round that took the leader in the middle of the forehead. Darcy screamed as the mercenary crumbled, pulling her down with him, out of the line of fire.

Tamping down all thoughts and emotions, Bucky took the rest of the mercenaries out in less than five seconds, ignoring the bullets whizzing by him. At his feet, Steve groaned, and Bucky glanced down even as he squeezed off his last shot.

Pain struck him like a freight train in the ribs. Bucky exhaled sharply, taking an off step balance backward, cursing himself for his own moment of inattention. Lucky shot from the now-dead merc he had just dropped. Armor piercing bullet. Shit.

He watched Darcy pull herself free from the dead leader and scramble across the room to Steve, throwing her arms around him. "You're shot!" Her voice was high and shrill.

"I'll heal," he assured in a shaky voice, reaching up to cup her face with both hands. "Are you okay?"

There was such raw emotion in Steve's voice and in Darcy's small distressed sounds as she touched his face that Bucky turned away. Physical pain had nothing on what he felt right now.

A little late to the party, the Avengers burst onto the scene, ripping the warehouse door open from the outside. Bucky relaxed, finally lowering his gun. As Steve's teammates swarmed into the warehouse, Bucky faded into a corner, watching. Nothing else existed to Steve and Darcy in that moment. They were completely focused on each other to the exclusion of everything else around them. It…it was hard to watch.

Steve had found a place to fit into this century, with his teammates and Darcy. It felt like something out of Bucky's reach, and he didn't want to stick around to watch anymore.

No one noticed when he slipped out of the warehouse.

Going back to his S.H.I.E.L.D cell/apartment was not an option, nor was returning to Steve and Darcy's place. Bucky kept a watchful eye out for agents, hostiles or Avengers as he melted into the night, leaving it all behind.

He kept to side streets and alleys, trading the guns in at a shady looking pawnshop for a change of clothing and some cash. Something kept him from giving up the Winter Soldier gear. He couldn't even acknowledge to himself why he did it, except maybe that Steve had kept it for a reason, and maybe he should too. He changed in the backroom of the pawnshop, using wads of paper towels to patch over the bleeding gunshot wound. He was pretty sure there was a cracked rib too. Maybe even a punctured lung, based on his wheezing breath. The Winter Soldier gear went into a plastic bag, and Bucky left the pawnshop owner a generous tip for the use of his back room.

Pain was beginning to overwhelm him, both emotional and physical. Bucky wanted to forget. All those memories of his time as the Winter Soldier were more immediate now. All the atrocities, the cold-blooded killings…it was all in his head now.

He swung into a bar and used his remaining cash to buy two bottles of hard stuff. Unlike Steve, he could get drunk. It would help him forget. For a little while at least.

* * *

Darcy clutched at Steve, ignoring the blood seeping from his shoulder, taking a few precious moments to feel safe. The last few hours had been terrifying. She'd been on her way to Stark Tower and had stopped at the coffee shop, like normal. When she walked out, there was a circle of rough looking men standing there. Waiting for her, obviously. Darcy did the only thing she could think of, and threw her coffee at them. It bought her maybe two seconds before they grabbed her. Since then, she had learned too much.

Moment of feeling safe over, she had to convey what she knew. She sat back, breath still huffing a little.

"Steve. Steve!"

He was trembling, gloved hands stroking her arms and face. "It's okay, he said shakily. "You're okay."

Darcy shook her head. "It wasn't about you!" she blurted.

Suddenly she was the focus of too much attention. Steve's Captain face took over, and Stark, Thor and Barton were right there behind him.

Steve cupped her face. "What do you mean? They grabbed my girl. That feels pretty damn much about me."

He rarely swore and that alone told her how upset and scared he'd been. Yeah, Darcy could relate to that. She took a deep breath. "They were going to kill me," she said softly. "So I was disposable, and they didn't care what they said."

Steve's eyes narrowed, lips thinning in anger. "And?"

Darcy licked her lips nervously. "Whoever was giving orders…they have a grudge against you from something that happened a long time ago."

"How long?" Stark interrupted.

Darcy frowned at the billionaire. "Before he was frozen. So part of the reason I was grabbed was with an eye toward revenge. But mostly…mostly they wanted you too busy worrying about me so they could take Bucky."

Steve pulled back from her like he'd been slapped, eyes growing comically wide. "Bucky? Why?"

She swallowed hard. "They wanted the Winter Soldier. They were holding me until they got confirmation that he was in custody and cooperating."

Steve's eyes lit with anger. "Bucky would never cooperate with that!"

"That's the other reason they grabbed me. So he would."

Steve rose to his feet. "Not a chance." He looked around past his teammates, blinked and frowned, then looked again. "Bucky?"

Darcy used his leg as a climbing post to pull herself up. "Steve? I saw him here with you. Bucky?" She looked around frantically. "Steve…where is he?"

A flurry of activity followed. Stark was barking orders at his AI to hack traffic cameras to try to get eyes on Bucky. Darcy just twisted her hands anxiously. He was out there, alone, with some serious goons looking to grab him and use him for assassin purposes.

Steve was just as worried, especially when he saw the blood droplets where Bucky had been standing, and then apparently faded back against a wall. All while Darcy had eyes for nothing else but Steve and the safety he represented. She had completely ignored Bucky's presence! How much of his disappearance had to do with feeling…unloved? Unimportant? Unnoticed?

It made Darcy feel sick to her stomach. He was so fragile emotionally, and she knew that he felt very strongly about both of them. They were his base, his foundation. Just as he was their completion. And she had completely ignored him.

Her feelings for Bucky were jumbled and confused. He'd very swiftly become just as important to her as he was to Steve, and she didn't want to be without him. Steve didn't either. It hurt him terribly when Bucky left them, leaving him incomplete again. When they'd come busting through the warehouse doors together, Steve was whole. Angry and scared, but whole, without that deep emptiness and loneliness that had always been part of him before.

Realizing that Steve wasn't a whole person without Bucky, and that her relationship with Steve was fragile at best without him was…strange. Before Bucky, Darcy knew she would always fall secondary to Steve's memories. She'd held onto him desperately tight, because it felt like she held a shadow. But when Bucky had returned, suddenly Steve was complete. His passion for life, without that deep abiding sadness, had spilled over into their relationship and made it much stronger. When Bucky left them, the sadness returned, and this time it affected her as well.

It was…empty…without him. And that scared her. What did it say about her relationship with Steve that it didn't feel right without Bucky being there? And that wasn't fair to Bucky. She remembered how he had held onto her when she'd visited him, body trembling, and then pulled away and told her to go back to Steve. Maybe it had made a little sense then, why he left them. 'Them' was too hard for him to deal with.

Darcy pulled a blanket tighter around her shoulders. Steve was pacing angrily back and forth, itching for action. He still wasn't used to Stark's way of doing things, preferring action to computers, but he wouldn't really have a hope of finding Bucky just by going out and looking.

If Natasha were here, she'd track him down right away. The woman was scary like that. But she was not with the Avengers. Clint was standing near the door, talking on his cell phone, looking more and more agitated by the moment. Darcy had overheard him say Natasha's name, so knew he was talking to the redhead, but it didn't look like a pleasant conversation.

There were police milling about, finishing up with the scene. Steve had been adamant about not calling in S.H.I.E.L.D. He was very angry about being detained, and was itching to have a long conversation with Fury about it. It didn't help that Stark had kept needling him about it. Stark didn't trust Fury or S.H.I.E.L.D, and he wanted everyone to see things his way. So Steve had Jarvis call the police instead of S.H.I.E.L.D, and had invoked his full authority as Captain America when they arrived, to explain what had happened.

It wasn't the first time Darcy had seen dead bodies, but it was the first time she'd seen people gunned down in real life. It wasn't like Hollywood showed it, unless watching the grittier stuff. Blood and stuff had exited the bodies in a spray when Bucky shot them. It was his reaction to it all that had touched her more than the killings though. He was emotionless and precise, like…like an assassin. It hadn't escaped her attention that he had been wearing the Winter Soldier clothes. Steve had kept them. She wasn't really sure why, and she was going to ask him about it, once Bucky was safe.

Clint's angry shout drew everyone's attention, and Darcy followed Steve over to the archer.

"What is it?"

Barton turned to face them. "Tasha shipped out yesterday morning, on a mission that Fury was ordered to personally oversee, by the council. It was in Calcutta. When they got there, the mission was scrubbed and Fury was told to wait for orders."

Darcy watched Steve's face flicker through several emotions. "To get Fury out of the way?"

Barton nodded grimly. "That's what Tasha thinks. They're on their way back now."

Just then, Stark shouted in triumph. "Found him, Capsicle. Wow…he doesn't look so good."

Steve looked down at Darcy. "I'll bring him back," he promised.

She nodded. "Don't let him run."

"I won't. We need him." For a moment, there was acknowledgement in Steve's eyes of … something. They would talk about it later.

* * *

Bucky looked up blearily from his position on the ground in a dark alley, and heaved a sigh. He was pleasantly numb, but shit was about to hit the fan. "Steve," he greeted, lifting the bottle to take another swig. It was smacked out of his hands and shattered on the ground. What a waste.

"That was rude," he pointed out. Lucky for him, he had another bottle tucked in behind him. That one didn't fare any better when he pulled it out, shattering on the building across the alley. Apparently, Steve was pissed.

Bucky inhaled deeply. "So?"

Steve reached down and grabbed him by the collar of his coat, hauling Bucky to his feet. Oops, no, it wasn't Steve. It was Captain America standing in front of him. Steve didn't Captain him often, only when he was very angry. And right now, he looked very angry.

"I said we had to talk after she was safe." Every word was bitten off, like Steve was fighting the impulse to shout.

Bucky shrugged. "Nothing really to talk about, punk. We rescued her, she's safe."

Steve's face twisted. "What are you doing, Buck? You say terrible things to us so we won't stop you when you want to get away. You willingly put yourself back into S.H.I.E.L.D's custody just to get away from us. All the progress you made with us starts to deteriorate. You completely destroy your S.H.I.E.L.D apartment!" He shook his head. "But as soon as you heard about Darcy and me, you came back to save us. So what are you doing now?"

How could he even articulate the conflicted feelings he had for both of them? "I told ya I'd follow ya into hell if necessary," he said softly. "I meant that. I'd take on the devil himself to save you or Darcy, because you pulled me back out of the abyss and I love you both."

"But you just don't want to live with us? Why not?"

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't be around the 'us' part, Steve. Don't know how you put up with it, back in the day. Me always having a dame on my arm. It was pretty shitty of me."

Steve shook his head, eyes fixed on his. "Never cared much about that, Buck. I was just grateful that I got to spend more time with you."

Well that just hurt. "I'm not that strong, Steve. I…I miss being the most important person in your life. It's selfish of me, but…"

Steve stared at him for a long time, different emotions warring with each other on his face. "You're not any less important to me than Darcy is, Buck."

He shook his head, pulling away. Watching their closeness was too much. "It's different. I still can't do it. Just…just let me go, Steve." When he turned to walk off in another direction, Steve slapped a hand hard against his ribs.

"You don't get to run away again!"

Shit. Lights exploded in front of Bucky's eyes. That really hurt. Of course Steve managed to hit the gunshot wound that hadn't started to heal yet. Bucky exhaled sharply in a wet cough. "Dammit Steve." He tried to take a breath, and coughed again. Wetly, with flecks of blood flying from his lips.

Dimly, he heard Steve calling for help, saw the wide eyed shock on his friend's face, even felt the hands on his arms holding him upright, but it was dim and growing dimmer. Bucky welcomed the darkness. It was much easier than consciousness at this point.

* * *

Bucky swam up out of darkness. It was a good waking, one of those sleeps without dreams. He felt refreshed, like himself again.

Before any other senses kicked in, he smelled coffee. The usual, of course. So he knew right where he was. Memories took a little longer to surface. Once they did, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be awake.

"Don't pretend to still be asleep," Steve's voice told him. "That doesn't work, remember?"

Strangely enough, he did. When they were burning out Hydra's bases, traveling all over Europe with the Commandos, Bucky and Steve had shared a tent. The nightmares had already started. Back then, it was Zola's leering dwarf face , and what he'd done, that haunted Bucky's sleep. He didn't want to worry Steve though, so he acted as if everything was normal. Tried to pretend that he was sleeping, but it never worked. Steve always knew. And if Steve ever wondered about the unnatural dependency on him that Bucky developed during that time…

He'd always been the lady's man, the one with options, because he wasn't a 90 pound severe asthmatic shrimp. He was the strong one. When the roles were reversed…Bucky wasn't quite sure how to deal with that. Everyone looked to Steve for answers, and any women they encountered practically swooned. Even though Steve only had eyes for Peggy. Steve was bigger than life though, and uncomfortable in his own skin, and it was oddly…appealing. He was Bucky's sanity, and the light in the dark places that Zola had dug into and opened up inside of him.

Bucky cracked his eyes open. Steve was sitting beside the bed in a kitchen chair, feet propped up on the bed. He looked relaxed and edgy at the same time.

"Thanks for going right for the gunshot and broken ribs, punk."

Steve winced and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, sorry about that. It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been trying to run, though."

Bucky shrugged. "Safest option."

"Why didn't you call me when they tried to recruit you?"

Bucky looked up sharply at the hurt tone. He didn't like being the focus of Steve's disapproving scowl though, and looked away. "My problem. Not yours."

"Like hell," Steve responded tightly. "This whole mess could have been avoided. That's why they grabbed Darcy. They wanted my attention elsewhere, and wanted to guarantee your compliance."

He felt like vomiting suddenly. His instincts had been right. Suit had set the whole thing up just to grab him, but hadn't counted on loose lips, and Bucky coming back to life once he had a purpose. It would have worked. He would have agreed to anything to keep Darcy safe, or Steve.

He sat up, wincing only a little at the pain in his side. It was healing nicely, and he could feel tape around his torso, holding things steady. Somebody had patched him up.

"S.H.I.E.L.D was behind this whole thing," he spit out.

Steve nodded. "Not S.H.I.E.L.D so much as the World Security Council. Someone on the council sent Fury on a wild goose chase to get him out of the way so they could do this. But they didn't count on you breaking out." He looked down then, avoiding Bucky's gaze. "I know you didn't want to come back here, and I think I understand why, but I had to keep you safe. I couldn't let them grab you."

There was more he wasn't saying. Steve was never very good at articulating how he felt. Then again, Bucky didn't have any room to judge. He held everything inside as well. It was a guy thing.

For a minute, or maybe three, neither of them said anything. Then Bucky finally had to ask – "So, why did you keep the clothes?"

Steve looked sheepish, ducking his head. "I thought that once Fury cleared you, you could come work with me, like old times. And…I thought maybe you'd feel more comfortable in clothes you knew."

A noise at the door of Bucky's bedroom had both of them looking up. Darcy stood there with coffee mugs in hand and a tentative smile. "I told him how bad of an idea that was," she assured, walking in to distribute coffee. Bucky didn't quite make grabby hands at her, but it was a close thing.

Bucky sipped, feeling the peace he always felt with the coffee, because so much else came with it. "Which part did you think was a bad idea, pumpkin? Me working with him again, or him thinking I would want to wear those clothes while doing it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Which one do you think, Barnes? Obviously, the two of you work together very well. Doofus here just didn't think about what memories those clothes could bring up." Her expression reflected exactly what she thought of that.

Interesting. Steve's ears were getting red, and if he ducked his head any further, he was going to cave in his chest. Apparently, Darcy had given him an earful. "Why…why did you keep them?" he finally blurted out, glancing up at Bucky from under his long lashes.

He shrugged. "Because you did, and I didn't know why."

Darcy rolled her eyes, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "The two of you are hopeless." She sipped her coffee and leaned back against Bucky's good side, avoiding the side that was healing. "Thank you for busting Steve out, and coming for me," she said softly.

Bucky exhaled, staring down at the top of her head. "I…I had to. I'd do it again."

"We need you with us," she said softly, eyes fixed on Steve. "We're not…complete…without you."

Shit. That was low of her. Guilt tripping him into staying, but she didn't realize what it would do to him. Then again, being by himself…well…it really had been worse. He didn't feel complete without them either.

"Want you working with me," Steve told him in a rough voice, not looking at him. "Fury owed me big time. He couldn't say no to anything I asked. You're clear. If you want to go, if you can't stand being around us, then you can go. I want you to stay. Work with me. Still need to track down who was behind all of this, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather have watching my back."

Bucky swallowed hard. "Not even your new buddies? Not Stark?"

"Hell no. They're great, but I'm just getting to know them. They've got nothing on my history with you. I'll follow the guy that follows me and protects my girl any day."

It wouldn't be easy, Bucky reflected, but he'd been through the alternative and it had sucked. Maybe he would feel differently on a day when the nightmares were pulling at his sanity, but right now, he didn't want to be alone again. And he had his freedom now, so if he wanted to go out and get laid, he would.

"Could you do me one favor, pumpkin?" he asked.

Darcy tilted her head back so she could look up at him. "Yeah?"

Bucky shot a hesitant look at Steve, then looked back down at her. "Can you try to be quieter at night?"

For a second, she didn't seem to know what he was talking about, but then she flushed bright red. "Ohmigod Barnes. You are such an ass." She sipped her coffee furiously. "Am I that loud?" she finally asked in a small voice.

Bucky exhaled. "Yeah. You really are."

Steve was even redder than Darcy. He coughed uncomfortably. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

Suddenly, Bucky's coffee was very interesting. "For now. I…I didn't do so well by myself."

Darcy nearly spilled her own coffee and his when she wiggled around and threw her arms around him. "I saw that," she deadpanned. "We missed you."

For the first time in a month, Bucky felt closer to whole again. When Steve leaned over and circled both of them with his arms, then everything felt just perfect.


	9. Chapter 9

Okay, so I took a well-deserved break from the angst that was Bucky's story (If My Life is a Dream…). Being that relentlessly dark takes a toll sometimes. Anyhow…isn't it about time that we get these three together? I know you've been waiting for it.

This arc of the story will contain various POVs. This is the fourth installment in the series. It began with **When Passed My Friend and Left Me Standing Bleakly**, continued with **To Soothe the Savage Beast**, then moved to **If My Life is a Dream, I Want to Wake Up**. 

* * *

Steve was filthy, sore, exhausted, and very hungry. One of the side effects of the super serum was an insanely fast metabolism, which required fuel on a regular basis. This mission hadn't really allowed for that, and his body was threatening to start cannibalizing itself soon.

At his side, Bucky slumped in a debriefing room chair. His feet were propped up on the table, and Bucky was pointedly ignoring the multiple scowls aimed his way. He was dirtier than Steve, if that was possible, and probably even more tired. But there was an inner calmness about him that hadn't been there before. Having a job, a purpose, suited Bucky. Without it, he tended to be hyper agitated, restless, or depressed.

Many of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents very clearly did not trust Bucky, and weren't shy about how they felt. Steve worried at first, but when it became clear that Bucky didn't give a shit, he stopped worrying as much. It didn't stop him from glaring furiously if someone made a nasty comment, and Captain America's disapproval was enough to prevent some rough times. Clint and Natasha's disapproval was even more potent, and both Avenger agents made it clear that they trusted Bucky.

Still, Steve worried. They hadn't been able to find out who had been behind the kidnapping and detaining fiasco yet, and Steve had no desire to have his best friend reprogrammed into an unthinking assassin, again. Bucky's performance during Darcy's rescue illustrated that his skills were still there, and could be accessed when needed, but the last thing either of them wanted was to see those skills put to use only for assassination.

Bucky would kill when necessary. He'd told Steve and Darcy that much, after a long heart to heart following Darcy's rescue. After all, he'd done it while a member of the Howling Commandos. He just didn't want to be used, against his will, as an emotionless assassin. A killing machine.

They had gone back to a slightly uneasy peace all together. After the fiasco with Darcy's kidnapping, Stark had offered them an apartment in one of the buildings he owned. Ever since he'd become Iron Man, the billionaire had started collecting properties around the world, owned in a corporate name that he was pretty sure could not be traced back to him, just to have safe places to stay. And since S.H.I.E.L.D, or the World Security Council, was screwing things up, Tony thought that Steve might not want it known where he was.

Steve didn't want to owe a debt of any kind to Stark, but he also didn't want S.H.I.E.L.D to be able to knock on his door and shoot him with tranquilizers again when he opened it. Plus, their old apartment was trashed. Bucky had destroyed the floor in the closet of his old room, and S.H.I.E.L.D had put metal bolts through the living room floor. And there were bullet holes in the walls. It was a mess. Upon being cleared by medical and returning to the apartment, Darcy had taken a quick tour, and had laughingly declared that they weren't getting their security deposit back.

But any decision would have to include Bucky, because Steve had no intention of letting him go off by himself again. He shouldn't have allowed it in the first place, but he wanted to respect Bucky's decisions. Then again, when coming back to yourself after being programmed to be an assassin, after almost dying, well, maybe those decisions had been compromised.

So after Bucky recovered from his gunshot wound with a little help from Stark's medical team, Steve and Darcy sat down with him to discuss things. They didn't want to be separated from him again. Bucky reluctantly admitted the same thing, even though he also didn't really want to be the 'fifth wheel', whatever that meant. Basically, living with a couple made him uncomfortable. Steve sort of understood why. Back in the day, pre-serum, Bucky had regularly brought girls home to the tiny apartment he shared with Steve. Steve had gotten quite a second-hand education at that time, and it was uncomfortable.

But with the size of apartments nowadays, it wasn't as much of an issue. There was plenty of room to avoid hearing and seeing things. And Bucky admitted that being by himself was a bad thing. Too much time to think. He also did not want S.H.I.E.L.D easily able to find them, so supported the move idea.

Fury hadn't been pleased when he found out Steve was moving himself and Bucky to an undisclosed location. He'd even gone so far as to have the S.H.I.E.L.D HR department call Steve to get the new address, for 'payroll purposes'. Steve was ready for that though, and had a PO Box address to give them, that was registered through Stark's company. Stark thought of everything. He was surprisingly helpful.

The moving itself had been a masterpiece of Stark's cleverness to outwit S.H.I.E.L.D's best. Steve still chuckled when he thought about it. It had been effective. S.H.I.E.L.D didn't know where they were. It was driving Fury nuts. But Fury wasn't the one Steve was worried about. Whoever had sent Fury off to Calcutta was the one he was after, because that was the person who had masterminded the whole thing. That was the person who thought that he (or she) had the right to take Bucky away from him.

Steve was mature enough to acknowledge that his possessiveness of Bucky was a little strange. But after four years (awake time) of thinking his best friend was dead, his reaction didn't exactly surprise him. Darcy was completely amused by it, especially when he had gone off in a rant one night. He was working with Clint and Natasha to track down the responsible person, and they had run into another dead end. When he had vented about it, in the privacy of their bedroom, Darcy had tried to reassure him.

Steve wasn't really sure what had overtaken him, but at one point, he remembered laying claim to Bucky. "He's my best friend, Darce. Mine! And no one gets to take him away from me again!"

Her speculative look had made him feel slightly ashamed of his base reaction. It had also had him wondering about that reaction. It wasn't…normal.

"Captain Rogers?"

Steve blinked, focusing on Sitwell's face. He was very tired if he was drifting off in the middle of a debriefing.

"Are we done here?" he asked, weariness coming through in his voice. He just wanted to go home. They'd been away from Darcy for two weeks.

Sitwell looked apologetic. "Not quite yet, Captain."

Bucky's boots slipped off the table and hit the floor with a resounding thud, drawing everyone's attention. Bucky leaned forward, and smiled his scary smile. "What the captain meant was – we're done here."

Steve found it hysterical that Sitwell still bought Bucky's 'sociopathic assassin' routine. The bald agent blinked, looking from Bucky to Steve, and then back to Bucky. He swallowed. "I guess we can wrap up early."

Bucky's smile had a lot of teeth in it. "Good decision." He stood, and stared down at Steve pointedly.

"Right." Steve somehow managed to stand, and followed Bucky out of the debriefing room.

Bucky knew him well enough to know that food was needed first, before they could even leave headquarters or shower. Whatever version of the serum Bucky had received didn't burn as quickly as Steve's, so he didn't suffer quite the same if food deprived. Still, he was hungry too.

They ran into Barton just coming out of the cafeteria. He winced when he saw their appearance, and ordered them to sit. Steve propped his head up with his hands and just sort of slumped into the table. He was eternally grateful when Barton returned with two heaping trays of high energy food.

"I could kiss you right now," he mumbled, grabbing a fork and digging in.

Both Barton and Bucky laughed at that. "Darcy might not like that," Clint pointed out, slinging himself into a chair.

"You brought me food," Steve argued. "She'll forgive me."

He streamrolled through the entire tray of food in a very short amount of time, feeling more like a human being once done. Across the table, Bucky looked revived as well, though still very dirty and tired. Steve could feel how dirty he was now, and a shower was definitely next on the list. He wasn't going home to Darcy smelling this bad.

Clint seemed to realize that at the same time as Steve did. "You should probably shower," the archer suggested. "You're a bit…fragrant…right now."

Steve ducked his head, hearing Bucky laugh out loud. "Yeah thanks, Barton. My nose works. Thanks for getting the food. I was about ready to fall over."

The archer nodded. "You two look rough. Heard about the mission. Glad I wasn't on it. Go shower. Please."

Steve laughed this time as he hauled his fragrant self out of the cafeteria and toward the showers. Bucky was gliding along behind him, exhaustion shining through now that he had eaten. They must make some sight – Captain America and his best friend, the former Winter Soldier, looking like they'd just crawled out of the primordial ooze.

By unspoken agreement, or maybe a little help from Barton, the showers were empty by the time they got there. Bucky peeled off to grab towels, while Steve got soap and shampoo. Thankfully, they had clean clothes waiting for them in their lockers.

Steve peeled off the uniform with a wince. It felt like it was practically bonded to his skin, and that was just gross. "Ugh," he muttered.

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, from down the row. He was pulling his jumpsuit off, face wrinkled in distaste. "I think it's alive."

Steve laughed tiredly. "After what we waded through to get to that cartel, it's a possibility." He turned to grab at the haphazard pile of towels and washcloths Bucky had dropped onto the bench, and paused for a moment as the overhead lights shone off of Bucky's fake arm. It was a marvel of technology, seamlessly integrated into his shoulder muscles and nerves, and as flexible as a real arm. Bucky hated it, but also relied on it quite a bit, since it was very strong, and nearly indestructible.

"You know I hate when you stare at it."

Bucky's voice was quiet, but not as angst-ridden as Steve expected, and that was a good thing. "I just…whenever I see it, it reminds me that you're really here, and not just a figment of my imagination. I wouldn't have dreamed up a metal arm, so I know you're real. And that just makes me happy. Everything was dark, after you fell."

Bucky nodded slowly. "It was. You and Darcy, you're my light. You brought me back to the light. Don't let me go back to the dark."

"Never," Steve told him fiercely. Neither one of them were looking at each other, but that was okay. They didn't need to.

The shower felt like heaven. Steve started to feel more like a human as the filth streamed off of him. Based on Bucky's almost pornographic moan from the next shower stall, he felt the same way. The sludge they had waded through had clung to them tenaciously, even through a pitched battle and the journey back to headquarters. It had started to feel like a second skin, and Steve was very glad to get rid of it. He definitely felt lighter without it.

"I think my drain is clogging," Bucky called, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Steve blinked water out of his eyes and looked down. His drain was not functioning well either. The water, starting to back up, was decidedly discolored. Steve shuddered to think that all that crap was coming off of him. "Mine too," he called back. "I think we were carrying a new life form."

Thankfully, they were almost done. Steve finished quickly, turned the shower off, and splashed through the not-draining water to escape the sludge.

"Much better," he sighed, finishing toweling off and pulling on clean clothes.

"Agreed." Bucky pulled a shirt over his head and shook his wet hair, sending some splatter Steve's way. Steve threw his wet towel at him, and Bucky retaliated by snapping him on the ass with it.

Now all that was needed was Darcy and sleep. They separated outside of headquarters, in their usual routine to shake off any possible tails. S.H.I.E.L.D had mostly stopped trying to track them, but Steve wasn't relaxing that routine. Stark had gifted both of them with a cool little device that would fry any bugs or tracking devices on their person. When they were on a mission, being tracked was a given. After the mission, S.H.I.E.L.D had no right to track them.

Steve had found trackers in his regular clothes, on his motorcycle, in his wallet, and shoes. Not every day, but often enough. Bucky had found them too, so it was better to be cautious.

Their routine home was convoluted and designed to befuddle any street level trackers. As far as Steve knew, it was effective. So he wasn't going to stop doing it, even though it made the trip home longer than it had to be.

Bucky had edged him out, and was just opening the door to their apartment when Steve stepped off the elevator onto their floor. He heard a squeal of glee from inside the apartment, and had to laugh as Bucky suddenly had an armful of Darcy. She hugged him tightly, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then saw Steve. With another happy shriek, she squirmed out of Bucky's arms and ran for Steve. She almost knocked him over in her enthusiasm.

"I missed you! You smell good. So do you, Buck. You were gone forever!"

Steve wrapped his arms around her tightly. "It was only two weeks, Darce."

"And we showered!" Bucky called as he entered the apartment. Steve followed, one hand sliding under Darcy's ass to hold her up as he walked.

"A good thing we did," Steve murmured to her. "Barton said we were fragrant."

Darcy wrinkled her nose. "I've smelled Barton after missions. If he said you were fragrant, you must have really reeked."

Bucky laughed from where he was standing at the refrigerator, downing a bottle of water. "We clogged the shower drains."

Darcy giggled against Steve's neck. "That's just wrong. What were you doing?"

"Wading through sludge," Steve answered. "Everything else is…"

"Classified!" Darcy and Bucky called at the same time. Steve rolled his eyes. They both found that funny for some reason. He couldn't understand why.

Darcy insisted on snuggle time after they'd been gone on missions. Bucky had tried to get out of the first one, only to be glared at and chased with the taser until he submitted. So he didn't even try to avoid it. He settled in on one end of the sofa while Steve sat at the other end. Darcy curled up in the middle, and tugged on their arms until they slid closer to her. This was for her, but Steve knew that he took as much comfort from it as she did, and Bucky even more so. It grounded them, brought them back from the precipice that missions could take them to.

And of course, they had to watch horrible television. Although this time, Darcy seemed content to allow Bucky to operate the remote. She had her head on Steve's shoulder, and her feet tucked under Bucky's legs.

"I missed you guys," she said again, drowsily. "You shouldn't leave me for that long."

Bucky's metal hand was curled around her ankle. "Didn't want to, pumpkin. It was necessary."

"Did you kick bad-guy ass?"

"Yep. Some nasty child slavers."

"Good."

Technically, Bucky shouldn't even be telling her that much, but Steve knew she needed some tidbits to feel better about them being gone. So he was fine with the little that Bucky shared.

Either Bucky wasn't paying attention to the television, or he'd been hit in the head too many times on the mission. Steve blinked in confusion at the romantic comedy currently on the screen, some soppy, semi-tragic mess that included a love triangle of the three main characters. From the side, he couldn't tell if Bucky was actually watching it, or just staring at the screen. Darcy was nearly asleep, so it wasn't like the viewing choice was being guided by her preferences.

Steve dozed off himself, but started awake when he felt movement on the sofa. Bucky was standing, staring almost grimly at the television.

"Buck?" he ventured softly.

Bucky twitched. "I'm going out for a while, punk. Not tired anymore. Get Darcy to bed, okay? You know she gets cranky when she spends the night on the sofa."

It was such a strange moment that Steve wasn't sure how to react. "We've been out for two weeks, Buck."

"Tell Darce I'll be back sometime tomorrow."

What was going on? "You're spending the night somewhere else?"

Bucky finally turned to look at him. "Planning to. Got needs, Steve. Haven't had much opportunity to take care of them." He flashed a careless grin that felt fake to Steve. "Gives you two some alone time too."

Steve couldn't even identify the feelings he had right now. Confusion. Frustration. Jealousy? He wasn't even thinking of that one. Bucky was a healthy male. He had every right to want to find a girl to have some fun with. After all, it had been awhile, as he said. But…it felt wrong.

"Be safe, Buck."

Steve wasn't really sure why the closing of the door as Bucky left felt like being shut out of his life. He didn't like the feeling. He didn't like the thought of Bucky doing what he'd done in the old days - finding a girl. He knew that Darcy wouldn't like it either.

* * *

The slamming of a door woke Steve. He pulled himself away from Darcy's back and rolled out of bed into a ready stance. But lights were flickering on, which told him that Bucky was back. Steve blinked at the alarm clock. It had only been three hours since he'd left.

"Steve?" Darcy mumbled.

"Go back to sleep," he instructed softly, and she did just that.

If Bucky's stomping footsteps were any indication, things hadn't gone well. Steve stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing at his eyes. Bucky was digging in the refrigerator, and finally pulled out a beer. When he straightened and saw Steve standing in the bedroom door staring at him, he frowned.

"What happened, Buck?"

Bucky popped open the beer and took a long swallow. Steve appreciated the movement of his throat as he swallowed, then shook his head, trying to clear the sleep cobwebs. What was he thinking?

"I got arrested," Bucky finally said in a growl. He was staring at a wall angrily.

"What? What happened?"

Bucky waved at him with the metal arm. "It's a little hard to hide this when the shirt comes off. So apparently, the girl I met, Katie, she actually watches the news. She remembered me blowing up S.H.I.E.L.D agents on the news as soon as she saw the arm, so she called the police. I didn't want to hurt anyone, so I just let them arrest me. The police didn't believe I was a government agent when I showed them the badge, so I had to call Barton to bail me out." His lips twitched. "That precinct will never, ever, forget how to react when they see a S.H.I.E.L.D badge the next time. Barton was…irritated."

Steve was too tired for this. "Why didn't you call me?"

Bucky turned to glare at him. "One – you just got home after a two week mission. You needed time with your girl. Two – having Captain America show up to bail out the man he'd been publicly fighting on the news…probably not good press. Three – just no."

Steve could see how much it bothered Bucky, what had happened. And he obviously hadn't gotten any action that could relieve any tensions, so Steve felt pretty bad for him.

"Buck…I'm sorry."

"Me too. She screamed like I was gonna kill her, Steve. And didn't stop even when I sat down on the floor with my back against the wall, sitting on my hands." He slumped. "And then it got worse."

"How?"

"She…she fangirled on me."

Darcy had introduced Steve to the modern day terms of fangirl and fanboy, so he knew what it meant. He just wasn't sure how it could possibly apply in this situation. "What happened?" he asked curiously.

"She asked me what my supervillain name was, and wanted to take a 'selfie' with me. Then she called the police back and asked them not to come right away, so she could score a supervillain for bragging rights."

Steve felt his mouth twitch. It wasn't funny. It really wasn't, because it had obviously upset Bucky, but at the same time…it was funny.

Bucky slumped even further. "Go ahead and laugh," he grumbled. "Barton did."

Steve moved close enough to sling an arm around him. "It sucks, Bucky. C'mon…go to bed. It will be better in the morning."

Bucky had relaxed enough now that he didn't fight Steve when he was led back to his own room. He was exhausted, Steve could see, every line of his body slumped in weariness. Trying not to sleep, so he apparently suspected bad dreams to be on their way.

It was a little strange to be tucking Bucky into bed like he was a child, but Steve could tell his friend needed it right then. He pulled Bucky's shoes off, and pulled the blankets up over him as soon as he was settled. Then he rested his hand on Bucky's forehead, trying to will good dreams his way.

"Sleep well, Bucky."

He couldn't hear what his best friend mumbled in response, and retreated out of the room, shutting off lights as he went. With any luck, Bucky would have good dreams, or a dreamless night.


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry for the long wait between updates! This chapter didn't like me. It kept going in directions that I didn't want it to go, and normally, I go with it, but in this case, it was compromising the storyline. I had to keep yanking it back on track, and that took about five rewrites. Grrr….

Not a lot of relationship building in this one, but just wait till next chapter! It's almost halfway written already.

* * *

He was doing it again.

Darcy hid her smile. When he thought they weren't paying attention, Bucky studied her and Steve. He'd been alternately sullen and withdrawn or furiously angry following his ill-fated try at getting some action the other night, so she had been careful of how she treated him. It sucked that his arm was so recognizable, but Darcy couldn't say she wasn't relieved that it had turned out as it had.

Her first reaction, when Steve had whispered an explanation the next morning, was to go to Bucky and comfort him. He was still so fragile, and that had to have been a blow. But she also recognized that he wouldn't appreciate it. Her second reaction, relief, had her questioning her own feelings. She felt relief because she didn't want to lose Bucky. And if he found someone to spend more time with, it was almost inevitable that they would lose him, and that felt wrong.

Steve felt the same way. He didn't express it out loud, but sometimes his inner Neanderthal came roaring out. One memorable moment, after another dead end that _didn't_ lead to the mastermind of the 'snatch Bucky' plan, Steve grew very eloquent about his feelings. Bucky was his, and anyone who thought they could take him away from Steve was in for a re-education.

Not the typical reaction of a male best friend. Darcy examined it in her head ten different ways, along with her own feelings. It wasn't fair to Bucky to be stuck in this sort of limbo, but she and Steve didn't want to let him go, either. She couldn't imagine going back to life pre-Bucky. He belonged with them.

She made sure to include him in everything she normally did with Steve, except the obvious. When they came home from missions, Bucky knew that there would be cuddle time. He'd tried to get out of it the first time, but apparently couldn't bear to disappoint Darcy, so just did what was expected of him. And she knew that he enjoyed the cuddle time as much as she did, even though he'd never admit it.

Others were a little confused about it, apparently.

"Is it weird, having him for a roommate?" Jane asked her one day, out of the blue. Jane hadn't said much about the situation before, other than some awkward questions about Darcy's safety.

"Nope," Darcy replied, snapping her gum as she did data entry.

"He's killed a lot of people," Jane tried again.

"Yep. So has Thor. So has Steve. And don't even get me started on Clint and Natasha. S'funny. Hulk has probably killed less people than everyone else, but Bruce is the one everyone worries about."

Jane blinked, momentarily derailed by Darcy's out loud musing. Across the lab, Bruce Banner raised his shaggy head and offered a tremulous smile. "Thanks for putting it into perspective, Darcy," he called softly.

She winked. Bruce was as broken as Bucky, in his own way, and from the moment she had first met him, her goal was to get him to relax a little, and accept himself. This had endeared her to Tony immediately. Of course, Tony being Tony, he had immediately tried to push the two of them together, because 'Brucie needs some action', as he put it. Thankfully, Bruce had put an end to that right away. Bruce still had a soft spot in his heart for Betty Ross, and he couldn't even consider other women. Especially not one that was almost half his age.

"Has he killed a lot of people? Yes. In terrible ways? Yes. But of everyone I know, he's the one with the least amount of responsibility in those acts. He was reprogrammed into a killing machine. They took away everything that he was, and put in what they wanted. I don't hold Bucky responsible for any of that." Darcy smiled at Jane's dumbstruck look. "Do I worry that he'll have a bad nightmare and wake up as that thing again? It's already happened. He snaps out of it pretty quick, and since then, we had Jarvis installed to help us out if it happens again."

Thor was visiting the lab, trying to pry Jane away from her science, but it was always a struggle. At least big, blond, and Godly was on her side. "I trust the captain's judgment," he told Jane. "Steven speaks only good things of his friend. And I do not believe he would endanger Darcy's life."

Darcy beamed at the Thunder God. "Thanks Thor. Bucky's a good guy. He has a lot he needs to get over, cuz life handed him a big 'ole bucket of shit, but he's working with it. And besides, he saved my life. He broke Steve out of S.H.I.E.L.D's custody so they could rescue me. Plus, he totally adores me, and I love surrounding myself with people who adore me."

Tony Stark, in an unguarded moment when he was tinkering on a machine of Jane's that needed fixed, expressed caution, but overall confidence.

"My dad talked about Barnes too. Not as often as Capsicle, of course, but usually Barnes' name came up at some point. Barnes was a lot like my dad – a flirt, a womanizer. But he was way off his game after his time with Zola. Steve couldn't beat the women off with a stick, but they avoided Barnes, or walked away from him. It was the eyes, my dad used to say. Barnes' eyes had all of hell in them. He'd been taken to the edge and gone into the abyss. People usually don't survive that, but Capsicle wouldn't let him go, and pulled him back. Steve was the glue holding Barnes' sanity together, and really the only reason Barnes could go on. When he fell…it was the thing that almost broke Capsicle." Tony shrugged thoughtfully. "Barnes seems to be okay now, but just be smart around him, Lewis. If something triggers that assassin personality, get out of his way as fast as you can."

Darcy could understand their concerns. She really could. But usually, she got to see the unshielded Bucky Barnes. The minute he was around anyone other than just her and Steve, his walls started coming up. He was tense and wary with everyone else, exactly what they expected him to be. With her and Steve, he was probably as close to Bucky Barnes as he would ever get.

Jane and Thor were beginning to get a little too cozy when Darcy's cell phone went off, playing Bucky's ringtone of American Bad Ass. There was an incredulous bark of laughter from Stark over that, but Darcy ignored him and answered her phone.

"What up, Buck?"

"Meet me for lunch?" he asked plaintively. "Steve abandoned me."

Since she had gotten a text from Steve a few minutes before, indicating he had a meeting with Fury and might be late getting home, Darcy wasn't surprised.

"Lunch sounds good, Bucky. Meet me in the tower cafeteria?"

"Can I wear short sleeves and frighten off the weak hearted?"

It was _good_ to hear him joking around. "Absolutely. Put on your sociopath face."

He laughed, something he did more often now. "You got it, pumpkin. See ya in about 20, okay?"

"Sounds good."

Darcy didn't hide her smirk when a wide area cleared around them in the cafeteria. Bucky was looking particularly menacing when they first sat down, but he lightened as Darcy chatted, even laughing over her crazy scientist stories several times. It made the people in the cafeteria look at Darcy differently. At first glance she seemed dismissible, but here she was having lunch with a sociopathic killer and making him laugh.

"You're doing wonders for my cafeteria rep, Barnes," she told him with a grin.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "That was my plan, Darce. Anything to raise your cafeteria status." He tossed a carrot stick at her. It was funny that he ate healthier than Steve. It never failed to amuse her, or Steve. Steve had speculated that it was because the Winter Soldier had been conditioned to be at his physical peak, and junk food had no place in that mindset.

"So what do you do if Steve is in a meeting all day long?" Darcy was genuinely curious. S.H.I.E.L.D still wasn't very big on the idea of Bucky being in their ranks, and he mainly stuck with Steve.

Bucky shrugged. "Barton and I are heading out on something after lunch. Won't take long. Couple of hours."

Darcy was glad that Clint had sort of adopted Bucky. The archer had issues a mile long and then some, especially after Loki's possession of his mind, but he could see when someone else had similar issues. He'd made a point of hanging out with Bucky when Steve couldn't be around. She was very grateful for that, because Bucky still obviously felt somewhat adrift.

"The two of you together must give Fury nightmares," she mused.

Bucky flashed a grin. "Anything I can do to help."

He left her after lunch with a promise to be home before Steve. Darcy headed back to Jane's lab area in bemusement. People were still watching her with wide eyes, and that was just funny. It was only when she was in the elevator with a couple of scientists that worked on their floor that another reason for people to be staring was brought to her attention.

She overheard very quiet speculation that she was a superhero groupie, and Darcy could understand that. After all, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner occasionally worked in Jane's lab, and she did like to flirt with them. And of course, whenever Thor stopped by, she was always chummy with him too. But apparently, the crowning moment had come during Avengers business, when the team had trudged, dirty and weary, into Jane's lab with some type of unknown tech for Jane, Stark and Banner to look at, and Darcy had thrown herself into Captain America's arms and shamelessly smooched him. Now she had been having lunch with the man who'd been battling with Captain America on the news, so she was apparently trying to sell out the good Captain.

Darcy was having a hard time not laughing in their faces, especially since they were whispering things just loudly enough for her to hear. She could work with it. It would be fun to play with them.

Two hours later, Jarvis announced a S.H.I.E.L.D visitor to the lab. Darcy wasn't sure who she was expecting, but it wasn't anyone she recognized. An older man, classically handsome, with an impeccably tailored suit. Sort of like an older Phil Coulson. Except that this guy smiled openly, even if it didn't reach his eyes.

"Miss Lewis, I'm Alexander Pierce," he greeted, offering a hand. Darcy shook it warily, which only seemed to amuse the man. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here," he said, withdrawing his hand. Darcy didn't miss that he absently wiped it on his pant leg.

"I don't usually get S.H.I.E.L.D visitors that I don't know," she confirmed.

Pierce paced in a short line back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. "You are dating Captain Rogers," he finally said.

Darcy folded her arms across her chest. "That's not a secret," she told him. "S.H.I.E.L.D has known about that for quite some time. After all, the possibility of the captain tarnishing his good image during my kidnapping led to S.H.I.E.L.D trying to detain him again his will." She bit back the ten other things she wanted to say and just stared up at the man.

Pierce acknowledged that with a nod. "We are…concerned. Obviously, Captain America is a symbol to the country, and should be above reproach."

Darcy clenched her jaw, struggling against her mouth's desperate need to say something, but she lost that fight. "I'm not dating Captain America," she snapped. "I'm dating Steve Rogers."

Pierce stared at her intimidatingly. "You were seen kissing Captain Rogers in this very facility."

"And how do you know that?" she asked.

The angry stomping of feet drew their attention. Tony Stark had just entered the lab. He didn't look pleased. "I'd like to know the same thing," he snapped. "This is a privately owned research lab that has no ties to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Pierce was icy all of a sudden. "You're not that naïve, Stark. You have one Avenger working here, and the girlfriends of two other Avengers. Do you really think S.H.I.E.L.D isn't going to keep tabs on that?" His sharp smile sent chills through Darcy's very core. There was something off about this man, but she couldn't put her finger on it. He seemed…stiff. Most S.H.I.E.L.D agents strove for the emotionless shell exterior, but they still looked normal. Everything about Pierce seemed…unyielding.

"But I'm not here for you, Stark." Pierce's attention came back to Darcy. "Today, you were observed having lunch with the Winter Soldier."

Warning bells went off in Darcy's head. "There is no such person anymore," she retorted. "I had lunch with my good friend Bucky."

Piece didn't even blink. "Given the rather volatile nature of the first meeting between Captain America and the Winter Soldier, kissing one of them and having lunch with the other raises questions about your intentions. It also casts a dubious light on Captain America, and S.H.I.E.L.D wishes to prevent that."

Darcy was getting ready to give the man a piece of her mind, but Stark was way ahead of her. Coldly furious, he pointed toward the lab door. "Get out. S.H.I.E.L.D has no place here, and no say in the private lives of the Avengers."

She was surprised when Pierce didn't attempt to stay and fight. He looked at them both measuringly, then turned and departed.

Tony Stark was very angry. "Jarvis – notify me if he deviates from exiting the building."

"Of course, sir."

"Sweep the building for bugs."

"Already working on that, sir. I've also begun to review the histories of every employee in this building for ties to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Stark's smile was a bit manic. "Make a building-wide announcement. Anyone who is secretly in S.H.I.E.L.D's pocket can resign now, and it will only be noted as 'resigned without notice'. If I have to fire anyone, they'll be labeled as a corporate spy." He tapped his chin. "Notify Capsicle and tell him to get his ass here as soon as possible."

Darcy's head was spinning. She didn't often see this side of Tony Stark. Usually it was just the manic billionaire or genius engineer that she saw. "He's meeting with Fury all day," she ventured.

Stark grinned hard. "Good. Fury should know about this. I am not pleased. Jarvis! Send an official notice to S.H.I.E.L.D. that I am not pleased."

"Very good, sir. Captain Rogers is on his way. Shall I notify Sergeant Barnes as well?"

"Yes," Darcy answered quickly. She was a little shaken that even Stark's tower had been compromised. If S.H.I.E.L.D observers were in the tower, both her and Jane were in possible danger. She didn't want to think that Fury had anything to do with spies in the tower, but it was likely he did. She wasn't worried about that so much as she was worried about any of those spies working for the person who had had her kidnapped. The person who wanted to take Bucky and remake him into the Winter Soldier. "Bucky's out with Barton this afternoon," she ventured.

Stark seemed to think of it at the same time she did. "Jarvis, notify Barnes and Barton. Tell them to watch their backs, more than usual, and to get back here, if they can."

"Director Fury has already ordered them recalled, sir."

Stark flashed a brittle smile. "And it might be prudent to get Thor down to the lab area."

"He is already on his way, sir."

Darcy uttered a slightly hysterical laugh. "S.H.I.E.L.D has no idea what can of worms they just opened."

Bruce Banner and Jane Foster approached slowly. Banner was breathing a little faster than normal, and Darcy hoped that Hulk would not make an unexpected appearance. Banner had gotten pretty good at controlling the rage beast side of himself, but if Hulk broke out instead of being let out, she wasn't sure what would happen.

Seeing Thor barge into the lab in a tee shirt and boxer shorts, hammer in hand, sort of broke the tension of the moment, and they all had a good laugh. Thor just stood there, looking slightly confused but ready for action.

Stark wiped at his eyes. "Geez Point Break. Put some clothes on next time."

Thor scanned the lab, and allowed the hammer to droop toward the floor as he relaxed. "I did, Man of Iron. It would not be prudent to run through the building wearing no clothing."

Darcy felt better already. Stark was pacing angrily, barking orders out to Jarvis as he thought of them, mostly related to keeping S.H.I.E.L.D out of his research labs. How Pierce had gotten there seemed to be a mystery. Jarvis had no records of the man entering the building, until he was walking into the lab area – which required a Stark Industries identification badge to access. This made Stark nearly crazy.

Then, there were Jarvis's observations. "There was something…wrong…with Mr. Pierce, sir."

"Wrong how?" the billionaire snapped.

"I am unable to formulate an answer, sir. The scans I was able to make on the man are inconclusive."

Tony Stark cocked his head in inquiry. "Inconclusive how, Jarvis? What was different about him?"

"I do not have a theory, sir."

Stark was not happy. "Don't get buggy on me, Jarvis. Not now."

"I am functioning normally, sir."

"If you're functioning normally, why was a S.H.I.E.L.D suited asshole able to walk into my building and then my research lab without a badge, and no record of his trip through the building? Why can't you tell me what is wrong with him?"

"I have no answers for those questions, sir."

The inability of his AI to provide answers seemed to rattle Stark like nothing else. He ordered everyone out of the building except Erik Selvig, Avengers, and their girlfriends. Darcy could practically hear the scream of outrage from Pepper Potts now. She had met Tony's significant other only once, but had been impressed with Pepper's no-nonsense take-charge attitude. Pepper had two focuses in her life – Tony and Stark Industries. When Tony started messing around with the company, it always agitated her.

Darcy paced, as agitated as Stark but in her own way. She felt off balance and scared, and wanted Steve and Bucky there so she could feel safe. S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't supposed to be the cause of fear in the good guys, but this was twice now that they had done so. Of course, bad seeds could crop up anywhere. S.H.I.E.L.D was no exception, but given the resources they could command, it was very frightening to think that someone could put those resources to use for their own purpose.

When Jarvis announced that Steve had arrived with Fury, she felt a burgeoning sense of relief. The woosh of the lab doors opening lifted her mood considerably, and she darted across the lab to throw herself into Steve's arms.

He squeezed her tightly. Pressed against his warm heat, feeling his heart beating against her cheek, Darcy felt relief. After a moment, she drew back and smiled up at her hero.

"I'm a devious slut," she confessed, eyes dancing.

Steve blinked at her, with the hint of a frown. "Uh…"

"I'm beguiling you with my ample feminine charms, while conspiring with the Winter Soldier to bring about your downfall," she told him.

Stark provided a quick summary, in short choppy sentences. He was still angry, arms and hands waving in agitation. Darcy could feel Steve tensing as Stark described Pierce's visit, and their subsequent discoveries about him and S.H.I.E.L.D.

They turned to Fury. He looked almost as angry as Stark. "Of course I had people here," he admitted. "It was a necessity. But those people report to me. The kissing incident was reported and filed. I haven't even seen the lunch report yet." He clenched both fists. "Pierce has been…flexing his muscles for several months now."

"Can you explain to me how he avoided Jarvis's monitoring until he got to this floor?" Stark snapped. "There is no record of him until he stepped out of the elevator on this floor."

Fury looked surprised. Either he was the best actor ever, or Pierce had access to tech that Fury didn't know about. Darcy watched him carefully, trying to see any point where he started manipulating them. But she didn't see anything as Fury and Stark got involved in a heated discussion about Pierce, including Jarvis's observations that something about Pierce was wrong.

After quite some time, Fury glanced around, seeming to realize the amount of time that had passed. "Where the hell are Barton and Barnes? They should have been here by now."

The sick feeling in Darcy's stomach was echoed on Steve's face when she looked up at him. He already had his cell phone out, calling, sharing a worried look with Darcy. "C'mon Buck. Answer the phone."

Behind them, Tony Stark muttered something that sounded like 'amateurs'. "Jarvis? Can you locate Barnes and Barton?"

Darcy heard the beep as Bucky's phone went to voicemail. She clenched her fingers tight on Steve's left arm. This was getting a little too tense. Steve apparently felt the same way, because his hand tightened around the cell phone until it cracked and then shattered. They were thinking the same thing, she could tell. Pierce had been a distraction so Bucky could be grabbed.

She pulled her cell phone out and texted Bucky. And waited.

Jarvis located them, announcing their location in his clinical voice, and calmly asking Stark if he should attempt to contact Agent Barton. Tony gave the okay, and Jarvis went silent for a few minutes, before he reported that there was no answer.

Tony was heading toward the lab door when Jarvis spoke again. "Sir, Agent Romanoff is calling on the Ultra Super-Secret Avengers line."

Fury's bark of incredulous laughter echoed Darcy's own as they all stared at Stark. He flushed a little at their perusal. "Put her through, Jarvis."

"Stark." Natasha's voice was whispered, taut and aggravated. "They're fine. Tell your group to stop trying to call, because every time you do, it gives away our position."

"Natasha. Report." Fury was grim, scowling furiously.

"They were already compromised when I reached them," she hissed. "There are a lot of misguided S.H.I.E.L.D agents here. We're trying not to kill people."

Fury swore, loud and creatively. "Can you hold your position for an extended length of time?"

"Of course."

"Do so. I'm sending non-lethal backup." Fury pulled out his own phone. "Coulson. Since you happen to be in the area, take your team and go to Barton's current position. There are agents there who are getting orders from someone else. Bogus orders. Take charge of the situation, and take those agents into custody, pending an eval."

Stark looked torn. "I should go…to make sure…"

Fury shook his head. "Stark, you need to keep your ass right here. Coulson is more than capable of stepping in and defusing the situation. If you go, there will be shooting, and people will get hurt."

Thor apparently decided that he was a better option than Stark because he started heading for the lab door. Jane Foster had latched onto his arm, but Thor was an unstoppable force, and Jane's feet were actually dangling in the air.

Steve saw it. "Thor! Stand down! S.H.I.E.L.D's going to handle their own mess. It's not the fault of those agents that they're getting bad orders."

Thor growled, actually growled, but came to a fault. It gave Jane the opportunity to soundly berate him, and Darcy heaved a sigh of relief. Thor could be as bad as Stark, and from the sounds of it, that was the last thing that was needed. She just wanted Bucky back safely. Undamaged, unaltered.

Steve slid his hand into hers, squeezing for comfort. He looked as worried as she felt. Or more. Darcy was a little surprised that he wasn't going all caveman and rushing out to save Bucky. Based on the twitching muscles she could feel at her side, he really wanted to and was showing remarkable self-restraint in staying where he was.

"Whoever this person is, they don't have very well thought out plans." Bruce Banner was tapping his chin thoughtfully. Darcy gave him her full attention, because Bruce didn't speak without purpose. "It starts out with a lot of misdirection, but then devolves into a straight head on assault. And this person never seems to calculate for teamwork."

Steve nodded. "It's almost as if he or she doesn't expect others to come to Bucky's assistance. It's a failing, but I'm grateful for it." His hands clenched and unclenched nervously. "Darcy said whoever is giving the orders is someone from my past. Deep past. That's fairly limited. Someone calling themselves 'Zola' sent the Winter Soldier after me. Unless the Zola that I knew was frozen, he'd be long dead. So, I'm guessing a descendent maybe, probably the same person."

Fury sighed. "Coulson's team has been looking into it, more from the 'Zola' angle than the more recent one. They haven't found anything yet."

Stark snapped his fingers. "Jarvis! Go after anything you can find on this 'Zola'. Exclude anything that S.H.I.E.L.D already knows."

Darcy bit back a laugh when Fury folded his arms across his chest and glared at the billionaire. "Stark, I know you don't still have completely illegal access to S.H.I.E.L.D files."

"Of course I don't." Tony flashed a cocky smile. "Just like you don't have S.H.I.E.L.D agents employed in this building."

Fury fell silent. There wasn't really much he could say to that.

Then it was just waiting. Darcy hated waiting. It really sucked. She was imagining all kinds of terrible things, but Bucky was with Barton and Natasha, so he would be fine. They wouldn't let anything happen to him.

Jarvis actually sounded relieved several hours later when he announced that Barton, Romanoff and Barnes had arrived. Everyone had adjourned to the penthouse to get comfortable. Darcy had been shocked to see broken holes in the floor, until Bruce had explained that they were from Hulk bashing Thor's brother Loki into the floor, and Tony refused to have them repaired. He was adorably red-faced when explaining it.

Darcy was sprawled on a leather sofa with Steve, trying to keep from sliding off of it. When Jarvis made his announcement, Steve jumped to his feet and Darcy slithered gracelessly to the floor. She jumped up and glared at her boyfriend, but then turned toward the elevator to wait. Steve was twitching again. It was driving him crazy to just wait.

When the elevator opened, Darcy rose up on her toes, bouncing a little in her need to see Bucky safe. He followed Natasha out of the elevator, with Clint bringing up the rear. Bucky was dirty and a little banged up, she could see, and he was very angry. The arm had scrape marks and scorch marks on it, and Darcy couldn't even imagine what could have happened to have caused those marks.

Bucky came to a dead halt when he saw Fury. Several emotions fluttered across his face – regret, anger, and finally a boiling frustration that threatened to spill over onto everyone around him. "Some of your agents need retraining," he finally snapped at Fury. "Or at least need to review intel before they attempt to bring someone in."

Fury watched him warily, probably remembering the last time he had faced Bucky. It hadn't ended well for him. "Why is that?" he finally asked.

Bucky waved the metal arm at him. "Using a magnetic retractable grappling hook on the arm – brilliant idea. Having one agent holding onto it – stupid and careless."

Darcy could picture it in her head. The hook grabbed his arm and began to drag him out into the open. All Bucky had to do was regain his feet, grab onto the line, and pull with the metal arm, which was much stronger than one man. That's probably where he'd picked up the dirt and scrapes and bruises she could see.

She finally could contain herself no longer, and crossed the room to throw her arms around Bucky. He made a surprised noise at first, then gently encircled her with his arms. The crushing, almost suffocating press of another body against her back told her that Steve had followed her, and had them both wrapped in his arms.

"Ya gotta stop scaring me, Buck," he said, voice rough.

"Me too," Darcy chimed in. "I fart when I worry." Oops. That was…not supposed to come out of her mouth.

Bucky laughed, which broke the tension a little, and then everyone was talking at once. Stark was getting information from Clint and Natasha, Fury was jumping in occasionally with his own observations, and Steve and Darcy just kept quietly berating Bucky for scaring them.

Stark finally noticed that they hadn't separated yet. Darcy still had her arms around Bucky, and Steve had his around both of them. "Geez you guys…get a room. On second thought, let me watch. I'm always up for watching a threesome."

Darcy and Bucky flipped him off, while Steve drew back with a red face. Darcy bit her lip at the implications of what Stark had said. Was this what they'd been dancing around since Bucky had come back? It was like a light bulb went off inside her mind. They couldn't do without him, nor him without them, but…

Absently, she stretched up to place a kiss on Bucky's dirty cheek. "You're filthy," she told him, squeezing him tight once more. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Bucky nodded, and she finally stepped back and released him. Fury made a token argument because he wanted to debrief Bucky, but Clint and Natasha didn't feel that was necessary. Stark protested, because he wanted to continue watching the three of them be all touchy with each other, or so he said.

Darcy stuck her tongue out at the billionaire, said a hasty goodbye to Thor, Jane and Bruce, said a quick hello/goodbye to Clint and Natasha, and then herded Steve and Bucky to the elevator. She and Steve had toyed with the idea of staying at the tower, but it didn't seem to be secure right now, and Pierce obviously had ways around Jarvis. So they just decided to go home, and followed the usual routine, splitting up and doing everything they could to lose any tails. As far as they knew, S.H.I.E.L.D still didn't know where they lived.

Once all three were safely home, and hadn't that caused some worry until Bucky walked in the door, Bucky headed for the bathroom to shower. He really was very filthy. Darcy snuggled into bed and Steve joined her. He was calm and mostly relaxed again.

"Steve?" she ventured.

"Yes?" He bent his head to kiss the top of hers.

"I have this crazy, wild idea."


	11. Chapter 11

So…I know I've made everyone wait a tortuously long time for this, but it's finally here! The coming together! Thank Tony Stark for the offhand comment that connected the dots (for Darcy at least).

Thanks for sticking with me! I hope you enjoy this, and that it's worth the wait. There's some smut, but I've tried to keep it tasteful and not too graphic.

This is not the last chapter of this story arc! Still have some plot to wrap up!

* * *

Steve and Darcy were both acting weird since Alexander Pierce had dropped in at Stark Tower.

Granted, the man had freaked out Tony Stark with his ability to evade Jarvis's detection. And both Jarvis and Darcy had insisted that the man was 'wrong' but they couldn't explain how. Darcy's best description was that Pierce was 'stiff and unyielding, but not in a natural way.' Strangely enough, Jarvis concurred. The AI was unable to come up with a better explanation.

Jarvis had supposedly recorded images of the man when he first appeared to the AI's sensors, but those images were corrupted beyond repair. It was driving Stark crazy, since it was compromising the AI's ability to run further scans.

Bucky almost couldn't understand or believe it. All of sudden, he was up to his ears in Avengers business. The other half of the Avengers, the half he hadn't spent any time with, was suddenly right there. He had way too much interaction with Stark, which was enough to make anyone drink. Bruce Banner became a kindred soul because he understood about having a monster inside that could break out. Thor was…Thor was an alien prince, which really blew Bucky's mind when he finally figured out Darcy wasn't joking about it.

If that wasn't strange enough, Steve and Darcy were just being weird. Bucky was beginning to feel like a prime piece of meat with the way Darcy was looking at him lately, and Steve just kept watching him, like he was going to be snatched right out from under his nose. It was weird. He heard them having intense discussions at night. He didn't know what those discussions were about, but had the funny feeling that his name came up more than once.

It seemed like the second attempt to snatch him had rattled them both, and their continuing weirdness was making him a little on edge.

He took advantage of Steve's rescheduled meeting with Fury several days later to head out on his own, aiming to find a willing dame and relieve some stress. It was building to an intolerable level and he didn't want to start snapping at Darcy or Steve.

When he texted Darcy to let her know he was going out, her response was immediate. She called him back, and Bucky answered with surprise.

"Hey pumpkin, what's up?"

"Don't go out!" she almost shouted. "Geez, Barnes! There is someone out there who wants to kidnap you and reprogram you back into an unquestioning assassin. You might as well hang a sign around your neck that says 'Free for the taking!' What's in your head?"

Bucky blinked. She sounded upset, and almost frantic. "Pumpkin, I'll be careful. I just…I need to blow off some steam."

"Remember what happened last time, Barnes? Do you really want to go through that again?"

No, he didn't. But he'd thought about how to defuse the situation ahead of time, and he wanted to try it out. He needed to do something!

"I'm going, Darcy. I'll see ya later. Hopefully not until tomorrow."

He ended the call, and when it rang back right away, he turned the phone off. He could take care of himself.

He found a bar, smoky and anonymous, and went inside. After a frustrating hour of finding nothing but over-painted and plastic looking women who couldn't hold one single conversation that was even remotely interesting, Bucky hit the street again, looking for another place.

He tried two other bars. There were a few interesting prospects at the second one, but as soon as he mentioned the 'prosthetic' arm, excuses were made. He figured it was better to warn women ahead of time, rather than have them freak out when the shirt came off. But he wasn't having much luck with that either. As soon as he said something about the arm, it was like he was damaged goods.

Tired, smelling of cigarette smoke and booze, Bucky gave up. He was cursed. That was the only explanation that made sense. It was payback for his loose ways before the fall, before the war. He idly wondered if Tessa would be willing to help him out again. She had been kind and peaceful and accepting. And he really needed to let off some steam.

He didn't bother turning his phone on to notify Darcy or Steve that he was coming home. They would figure it out when he got there. Bucky wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with the sympathetic glances, so he'd probably just lock himself in his room. Maybe he'd check with Barton. See if the archer would be his 'wingman' for a future trip out.

He was so bummed that he didn't even want to bother with the subway, so he flagged down a cab. It was a shameless waste of money, but he had plenty of it. S.H.I.E.L.D had coughed up a ridiculous amount of money when he started working with Steve, citing back pay and hazard pay. Bucky hadn't really cared, but both Steve and Darcy had strongly suggested he accept it and bank it. So he had. Then Darcy had introduced him to the wonders of debit cards. No one carried cash anymore. Or at least, not as much as they used to. It was easier to use the card.

The cab driver kept glancing in the rearview mirror, and Bucky figured he probably recognized him from the news. But he was surprised when the driver spoke.

"You look like a man with heavy thoughts," he called in a heavily accented voice.

Bucky sighed. "Trying to find my place in the world, but it seems like the universe is against me."

"Ah." The cabbie nodded. "This usually means you are straying from the path meant for you. There is something you are fighting against, and when you try to do something counter to it, bad things happen."

Bucky smiled in surprised delight. This guy was better than a fortune cookie. "That's probably it. But I'm not quite sure what I'm fighting against."

The cab driver nodded wisely. "It is buried deep within. Accept your feelings."

Bucky was still bemused when they pulled up to the apartment building. Training took over, and he quickly surveyed the area while pulling cash out of his wallet. He gave the cab driver a generous tip. After all, the man had sage, if somewhat vague, advice.

He took the stairs up to their apartment. After the almost disastrous episode in the elevator with Barton and Natasha, he figured it was safer just to take the stairs. Plus, it was good exercise. He usually jogged the whole way up without even breathing hard.

He heard the faint sound of the television as he pushed open the door, which meant that Darcy was probably already crashed out on the sofa. If Steve was home, he'd be there with her. Bucky shut and locked the door, and headed toward the living room, just to let them know he was home. It was surprising that neither one had called a greeting, but then again, they weren't expecting him to be home.

As he stepped into the living room, his eyes went to the sofa. Bucky's greeting died on his lips. They weren't missing him or worried about him at the moment, his stunned mind realized.

There was so much skin. Golden muscles and pale curves. Muscles flexing with small, intense movements. Eager breathless noises. Bucky froze, unable to tear his eyes away, yet knowing that this was the worst possible thing he could be seeing for his own sanity's sake. Not seeing things was acceptable, but this? This was what he didn't want to see.

Soldier instincts or super soldier hearing finally caught up to Steve apparently. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder in complete dismay, taking in Bucky's stunned expression. Darcy's face appeared over Steve's other shoulder, mouth open in complete shock. When her expression morphed into sympathy, it finally broke Bucky out of his stunned perving. He closed his eyes and backed away.

"Taking a shower," he called gruffly, practically running to the bathroom and locking the door firmly. He leaned against it for a moment, breathing heavily, before straightening and stripping off his clothes. The water, turned as hot as he could handle, felt like a thousand needles on his skin when he stepped under it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image out of his head: Steve, hovering over Darcy, face buried in her neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him into her firmly. Shit. God. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the image was burned into his head. He had to get some action. Even if he had to pay for it at this point. He didn't really care.

A change in air pressure and the gentle flutter of the shower curtain warned him that he was no longer alone. Apparently, a locked bathroom door wasn't enough of a hint to keep out. Bucky exhaled in frustration. He didn't want to deal with Steve's stuttered apology right now.

"Not now, punk," he growled, pressing his forehead to the shower wall. It was cool on his overheated skin and felt good. Steve didn't say anything, but he didn't leave the bathroom either, so apparently the captain was going to wait for Bucky to finish showering. Well, he could damn well wait for a while then.

Bucky took his time, washing thoroughly, just prolonging the moment when Steve would try to make an awkward apology. He wasn't in the mood. Steve shouldn't feel the need to apologize for doing whatever he wanted to. Of course, Steve knew how uncomfortable it made him, the whole Steve and Darcy thing, but Bucky didn't feel that Steve should need to apologize for it. Good for him for getting some action.

Finally though, the hot water ran out. Bucky turned off the water and used his real hand like a squeegee, sluicing the extra water off his body. His skin felt too tight again, and hypersensitive. Well, a good bout in the sack would help cure that. Maybe he could get rid of the images in his head then. Maybe.

Finally, he was as dry as he was going to get while still standing in the shower stall. Steve hadn't left yet, and Bucky was starting to feel seriously annoyed. Oh well. He yanked the shower curtain open and froze. It wasn't Steve waiting for him. For a few seconds, he couldn't move, staring silently at Darcy. She was perched on the vanity, staring silently back at him, eyes practically throwing him to the floor as they raked over him. She had pulled on a tee shirt and shorts, but quite obviously no underwear. He could see the hard nubs of her nipples pressed against the shirt, and the shorts were loose enough and short enough for him to see that she wasn't wearing panties.

"Shit Darce. What the hell?" he yelped, finally snapping out of it and yanking the shower curtain shut. He wasn't cowering behind it. He wasn't. Not conflicted as hell and hard enough to hammer nails through a board. Not.

She snorted. "I wouldn't have expected you to be body shy, Barnes."

"I'm not fucking body shy," he corrected testily. "But I'm also not in the habit of swinging my stuff in front of my best friend's girl. You need to get out of here."

"Why?" she returned, with a perky lilt to her voice that he resented a lot. She had to have seen that parts of him were standing at attention. It wasn't nice to tease like that.

"Pumpkin…you need to go."

"Nope! I let you chase me off once. Not gonna happen again."

Bucky groaned in frustration. "Now's not the time, Darce. Where the hell is Steve? Why isn't he sitting on you, or something?"

"He was, Bucky. But then you walked in and kinda killed the moment." The laughter in her voice was almost like a slap in the face.

He turned and thunked his forehead into the shower wall solidly. Maybe if he reset his brain, this weirdness wouldn't be happening. And Darcy, his best friend's girl, wouldn't be flirting with him while he was naked, hiding in the shower.

Her vibrant laugh was just mean in this situation. "Are you coming out of there, Barnes, or do I have to come in after you?"

She wouldn't. Would she? "What the hell are you doing, Darce?" he hissed. And where the hell was Steve?

"I'm trying to seduce you, you ass. But you're making it very difficult."

Seduce him? Bucky reeled. What the hell was going on? "Darcy. You're Steve's girl."

"We share everything else," Steve's voice suggested softly.

Bucky slowly peeled one edge of the shower curtain back to peer out into the bathroom. Steve was standing beside the vanity, one hand on Darcy's leg. He was wearing a loose pair of boxers. They were both just looking at him. Warm looks. Looks that had heat coiling in his stomach, and whatever blood was left in his body rushing south.

No. He didn't need sexual handouts now too. Bucky pulled back, shaking his head. "No. Thanks for the offer, but I can find my own good times."

"Yeah, that's worked out so well for you." Steve's voice was a touch…irritated. "Don't be an ass, Buck. We don't work without you with us. This is just the next logical step."

He would expect that line of reasoning from Darcy, not Steve. "The next logical step? Sharing Darcy? How is that logical?" Where the hell was Steve's head? The good captain, suggesting sharing a woman?

He heard the footsteps approaching. Darcy was making good on her threat to come in after him, apparently. Bucky was not cowering in the corner of the shower stall like some blushing virgin. He wasn't. And when the shower curtain was pulled open by Steve instead of Darcy, he felt his mouth fall open in disbelief or relief. He wasn't sure which one.

Steve held his hand out. "We don't want you to be unhappy, Buck."

Darcy hopped off the vanity and slid over to Steve's side. "And we know you have been, anytime we do anything couple-y. Like Steve said, we don't work without you. To keep you as a platonic member of our little group just isn't fair to you." Her eyes dropped down over his front, and a mischievous smirk pulled at her lips. "Besides, that looks really painful. I want to help you."

Bucky had never felt so exposed in his life, with two sets of eyes raking over him. Unlike anyone else recently, their eyes weren't stuck on his metal arm. And suddenly, all his reasons for refusing seemed silly. Standing right in front of him was the acceptance and love he craved. That he already had. He wouldn't have to worry about them freaking out and calling the cops on him.

It must have been apparent in his expression, because Darcy stepped forward and reached out, taking his metal hand in hers. Steve claimed his real hand, and they both pulled gently. Bucky's legs were a little shaky as he stepped out of the shower stall. Standing between them, it was all a little too real. He swayed, eyes darting from one to the other.

Darcy laughed softly, and reached up with her free hand, curling it around the back of his neck. "You look like you're about to run or faint, Barnes."

"I feel like both," he admitted, allowing her to pull his head down.

She stretched up, until her lips were barely an inch from his. "That would be a shame," she whispered, breath puffing softly against his mouth.

Bucky groaned quietly. "You're killing me, pumpkin."

She stepped forward a half step, enough that she was pressed gently against his painfully hard erection. Her eyes were laughing at him, but somehow, kissing her felt like it would be some type of betrayal of Steve. Even though Steve was right there, Bucky couldn't make himself move the necessary half inch to bring his mouth to Darcy's.

Until Steve pinched his arm, hard. "What are you waiting for, idiot? Kiss her."

Bucky exhaled in relief, swaying forward to press his mouth to Darcy's. It felt like coming home. He'd been wanting to kiss that mouth for longer than he was willing to admit, and it was heady. He could honestly say it was the first kiss in his life to have feelings behind it.

She chuffed softly against his mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip and swiping her tongue along the top. The hand that was curled around his neck tugged softly on his hair, pulling a groan from Bucky's mouth. Darcy took advantage of the open mouth to swipe her tongue inside, and Bucky shuddered. Still, he didn't miss the other hand that was stroking his shoulder. That hand was large and warm, and surprisingly very welcome.

Darcy, with another chuff against his mouth, swiveled her hips against him. Bucky almost fell. It felt too good, even that tiny little bit of stimulation, and he realized he wasn't going to last long at all. Darcy seemed to realize the same thing. She bit his lip and then pulled back so she could look at his eyes. "Let's take the edge off," she suggested with a throaty laugh. Bucky nodded numbly, and before he could even wonder what she meant, she rocked forward against him once, twice, and that was all it took for him to be shuddering through a hasty release.

Thankfully, Steve was there to support him as his knees buckled. Bucky leaned on him gratefully, and laughed softly when he thought about what this must look like. He was naked and still wet, both of his hands being held, with Darcy practically still glued to his front. She was frowning down at her clothes.

"You made a mess of my clothes," she accused.

Bucky laughed again, weakly. "Totally your fault, pumpkin."

She smirked up at him. "Yeah. C'mon Barnes. Let's take this to a bed. I imagine there's more where that came from, if your refresh rate is anything like Steve's."

Bucky flushed, and looked up to meet Steve's eyes. "Uh…can't say what Steve's refresh is like, but mine is kinda quick."

Darcy bit her lip. "I'm the luckiest and most selfish bitch on the planet." She stepped back, eyes glinting, and promptly stripped out of her clothing.

Bucky's mouth went dry. He must have lost all ability to be smooth, because the only thing he could do right now was stare. Darcy was all lush curves and pale skin, and just the thought that she was offering all that to him (to share with Steve) just floored him.

"I don't care if you're the most selfish bitch on the planet," he told her. "You're beautiful."

She ducked her head, hair falling forward to obscure her face. "Flatterer."

Steve poked him in the chest. "Can you walk?" He was still supporting Bucky's weight.

Bucky straightened, finding his legs agreeable with supporting him again. "Yeah." His voice was a little hoarse. They weren't really all going to fall into a bed together, were they? That would be Stark's wet dream probably, but Bucky couldn't imagine that it was Steve's.

And Steve, ever observant, saw something on his face. "Give us a minute, Darce. Go ahead. We'll catch up."

She grinned cheekily, rose up to plant another soul stealing kiss on Bucky's mouth, then pulled back and sauntered out of the bathroom, hips swaying. Bucky couldn't pull his eyes away from that sight until it disappeared. Then he blinked a few times, and looked up to meet Steve's eyes.

"Uh…"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Darcy and I have talked about this a lot, since Stark made his comment the other day." He flushed a little. "In our time, this type of thing, even thinking about it meant that you were a pervert of the highest order. But…the world has changed."

The idea of Steve having this conversation with him was short circuiting Bucky's brain. Especially considering that he had been the one to have all the experience, back in the day. But a lot of things had changed.

Bucky nodded dumbly. "I…just…this is unexpected."

Steve finally released his hand and moved a little closer to him. "How long have you been in love with her?"

"What?" Bucky tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go, unless he stepped back into the shower.

Steve grabbed his wrist, eyes boring into his. "You think we didn't know that? How long?"

Bucky wilted. "Since the first day. When she faced down a broken wild man, lost inside his own head, and offered him coffee because he looked like he needed a friend." His eyes dropped to the floor. He didn't want to see Steve's reaction to that, to how long he'd been harboring those secret feelings for Darcy. It had seemed like such a betrayal of their friendship, even if he would never act on those feelings.

The hand on his wrist squeezed. "I'm sorry. I know it was hell for you, and that's why you didn't want to be around us anymore."

Bucky shook his head, still staring at the floor. "It was wrong, Steve. You don't…you don't fall for your best friend's girl."

"Can't help what you feel, Buck. And it would have only been wrong if you had tried to steal her away from me." Steve uttered a laugh. "S'funny how things turn out." He pulled Bucky's hand down to the front of his shorts, ignoring Bucky's strangled cry. "It's not just for Darcy," he assured.

Bucky could feel Steve's straining erection through his shorts, and if this wasn't the strangest conversation he'd ever had with his best friend, he didn't know what was. But, if he was honest with himself, because that seemed to be the best course of action right now, he'd loved Steve for a long time. Only…well…it wasn't natural.

He must have said that out loud, because Steve smacked the back of his head. Bucky looked up, eyes gliding up the length of Steve's body, having a moment where he marveled at the physical changes his friend had been forced through, to meet Steve's eyes. They were warm and welcoming.

"Did you know that, in nature, animals quite commonly form same sex pairings, or mixed gender threesomes?"

"Huh?"

Steve laughed, pressing forward a little into Bucky's hand. "Darcy told me that, when she was trying to break past my old time hangups. She said 'if it happens in nature, how can it be unnatural?' She's very convincing. But I guess ultimately, it comes down to how I feel. How you feel. I love you. I've loved you forever, and when I thought you were gone, it destroyed me."

Bucky swayed, feeling the burn of tears in his eyes. He remembered what he felt, what he thought, as he dropped into an icy abyss. His only thoughts were of Steve. Knowing how Steve would react to his death, worry that Steve would burn himself out because he didn't know when to take time for himself, and a small touch of relief that he wouldn't have to live through Steve drawing away from him to get wrapped up in Peggy.

"Punk, I've always loved you," he assured, eyes fixed on Steve's face. On his mouth. Would it be weird…? "Can I…can I kiss you?"

Steve twitched, lips curling up in a bemused smile. "Wow. What's the thing that Stark always says? 'Shit just got real'. Think that applies here?"

He talked too much. Bucky leaned forward, giving him plenty of time to pull away, but Steve only watched him with eyes that were darkening with arousal. The first brush of their mouths was tentative. After all, it was weird to be kissing your best friend like that. But the electric thrill that sparked out from that brief contact was enough to wash away that weirdness. Steve fisted a hand in Bucky's hair and pulled his mouth back to his. It was the second kiss in his lifetime that had feelings behind it. And really, it wasn't unnatural at all.

He was getting lost in the moment, exploring Steve's mouth, closing his eyes and just feeling, when a voice broke into his hazy bubble of arousal.

"I'm getting cold! I'm naked, all alone on this big bed! Is there something more interesting in the bathroom?"

Bucky pulled away with a chuckle, mouth still tingling. Steve's eyes, so dark they were almost black at this point, promised that they would do that again. "We should go," he suggested huskily. "She gets whiny if you don't pay attention to her when she wants it."

He turned and left the bathroom. Bucky took a second to take a few deep breaths, and then followed. He felt lighter, liberated almost, now that he had confessed his feelings.

Darcy was indeed naked on the big bed in her and Steve's room, one hand stroking lazily between her legs, and the other caressing her breasts. Bucky was transfixed by that sight, and walked straight into the doorframe, stubbing his toe.

"Ouch, dammit," he swore, shaking his foot and gripping the door frame for support.

Darcy's throaty laugh mocked him. "See something you like, Barnes?"

He shook his head with a wry smile. "See something I've liked since I first saw it, pumpkin."

Darcy bit her lip. "He's so nice, Steve. You told me he was a playboy."

Bucky watched Steve crawl onto the bed and kiss her. "He was a playboy. But I think he's finally matured a little."

"Ouch, Steve."

Bucky finally pushed away from the doorframe and made his way across the room to the bed. There wasn't going to be a lot of room. If…if this was a permanent thing, they'd need a bigger bed.

Steve flipped over onto his back and leaned his head in against Darcy's so they could both look up at him. "He looks like he's thinking heavy thoughts," Darcy noted, with an impish little grin. "Why is he thinking heavy thoughts right now?" Her eyes flicked down to Bucky's groin, and her grin only grew. "Wow…how is he capable of heavy thoughts right now?"

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. She was utterly ridiculous and completely charming at the same time. "Pumpkin…you talk too much."

She sat up abruptly, surprising him, and her hand darted out to wrap around the part of him she'd just been oogling. "Shut it, Barnes, and get your ass down on this bed."

Bucky exhaled shakily. "Uh…" He allowed himself to be tugged down on the bed so that he was stretched out at her side. Darcy released him them, and her fingers walked themselves up his stomach, stopping for a quick tweak of his nipple, and then cupped his chin and turned his head to bring his mouth to hers.

"You were kissing Steve, weren't you?" she accused softly, lips moving against his.

Bucky couldn't really think very clearly, especially when she turned up on her side to face him, and Steve propped himself up to watch. "Uh…yes. I'm sorry."

Darcy laughed. "Doofus. It's okay. You can kiss him. You can do anything to him that he's comfortable with. Same with me." She seized his mouth with hers, hand sliding around to tug at his hair again. Bucky reached out with his real hand hesitantly, landing on her hip and then sliding it up along her curves. She felt so good.

Darcy wriggled forward to press herself against him, and hummed against his mouth. "More touching," she commanded. "You've barely touched me, Bucky."

"She likes being touched," Steve confirmed. "She's a very tactile person."

True. Bucky smiled against her mouth, and then trailed away from her mouth and down into her neck. He smiled at the little squeal of delight that came from her mouth as he nipped at the soft skin of her neck, and his hand slid from her side to cup one breast. They were magnificent. She managed to hide their fullness under looser shirts, so he was a little surprised. But then again, Steve always did like busty, mouthy, brunettes. Damn. _He_ was a mouthy brunette. Maybe not busty, but very much a mouthy brunette. Steve definitely had a type.

That thought couldn't be contained, and Bucky laughed into Darcy's neck.

"He's laughing, Steve," she complained, tugging at Bucky's hair again. "Why is he laughing right now? Are my breasts funny?"

Bucky pulled back from her neck. "Your breasts are magnificent," he told her. "But I was just thinking that the punk here likes mouthy brunettes. He consistently goes for them." He winked. "We might want to watch him around Stark."

For a second or two, he wondered if he had gone too far. Steve and Darcy were both staring at him with slack jawed expressions, and Bucky cringed inside. Then Steve just erupted into laughter and flopped onto his back, pressing the back of his hands over his eyes while he laughed uncontrollably. Darcy's eyes crinkled in mirth, and she looked fondly over her shoulder at Steve.

"I think you broke him," she said softly. "I've never seen him laugh like that."

As Steve continued to laugh, Darcy turned back to Bucky and slammed her mouth on his. "Thank you," she muttered, pushing him over onto his back and straddling his stomach.

Bucky's hands fell onto her hips. He was a little unprepared for her almost ferocious assault on his mouth, so he just stayed still, accepting it. When she started wiggling against his stomach, slowly inching down toward the part of him that was straining up toward her, he groaned, hips lifting off the mattress a little. He was right on the edge of the bed, and if they moved around too much, they'd fall to the floor.

Steve's laughter trailed off, and he seemed to realize how close to the edge they were as well. Bucky was dimly aware of him rolling off the other side of the bed, and then he was sliding toward the middle of the bed as the sheets under him moved. That felt weird.

Darcy was wiggling all over him, and occasionally brushing him. Bucky was practically panting from her assault on all of his senses. He ran his real hand up her back and seized her hair to tug on it, pulling her mouth back from his.

"You're killing me, pumpkin."

She grinned, lips swollen and eyes huge. "I'm sure gonna try. You clean?"

He made a face at her. "You know I am. S.H.I.E.L.D gave me a clean bill of health before they released me."

Her pelvis wiggled its way down over his while her eyes flashed. "I didn't ask about STDs."

Bucky winked at her. "I did."

Steve rejoined them on the bed. "Don't tease, Darce. He looks like he's gonna explode soon."

She sat up, now straddling his thighs, hands braced on his chest. "Major backup, huh Bucky?"

He laughed softly. "That's rude pumpkin."

"Did you touch yourself? Thinking about me?"

"No," he corrected, tugging her back down to him by her hair. "I touched myself thinking about both of you."

She nipped his bottom lip hard, eyes dancing, and rubbed against him a little more. "Do you want to do something with that thing that's poking into my stomach?"

Bucky huffed. "Do you ever stop talking?"

She did when she finally lined things up and sank down on him. Then there was no time or energy for words, just breathless noises and appreciative groans. And through it all, Steve's hands were on them both, linking all three of them.

Bucky was thankful for the hasty release in the bathroom earlier, because at least he didn't totally embarrass himself by not lasting as long as he could. Still, it wasn't long before he was trembling in an effort to hold it back.

"Darcy," he gasped out. "Shit. You gotta slow down."

He heard Steve's snort of laughter from right beside his ear. "She never does once she gets going. That's okay, Buck. I can finish her off for you." Teeth that were not Darcy's tugged at his earlobe, and Bucky shouted, coming so hard he nearly blacked out. It was almost painful.

Darcy stayed with him until his muscles unlocked, then kissed him thoroughly and pulled away. She smirked, eyes raking over him, then looked to his left and let an appreciative whistle. Bucky turned his head to see Steve stretched out on his back beside him, taking matters into his own hand, so to speak. He shouldn't find that as arousing as he did, but it was fascinating to watch.

"Need some help, Captain Rogers?" Darcy asked. She rolled off of Bucky and onto Steve, grinning down at him.

Steve winked at Bucky. "Well, I did promise Buck that I had his back, and since he couldn't get the job done…"

Bucky turned up on his side so he could slap a hand down on Steve's chest. "You suck, punk."

Darcy turned a speculative gaze on both of them. "Hmm…we might possibly be able to arrange that."

And while Bucky's brain was short circuiting over that thought, Steve made good on his promise.

* * *

Wow! That got a little longer than I planned, but I hope it was worth the wait! The story isn't over yet, so stay tuned for some more plot, day-after fallout, and more!


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry folks! This took a lot longer than I thought it would! We had a three week long fundraiser drive at work, so I spent three weeks baking and making food constantly, and then it took me a week to recover. Lol.

I'm pretty sure only one more chapter after this one, but then again, this was supposed to be the last one, so no promises. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for sticking with it!

* * *

He was warm.

After falling into an icy river as well as being put into cold storage when not needed as the Winter Soldier, Bucky appreciated being warm. Usually, it seemed like the ice had a permanent place inside of him, a freezing core that nothing could melt. But when he woke from a peaceful dream of Coney Island, summer sun beating down on him and a pre-serum Steve Rogers as they rode the Cyclops, every part of him was warm.

It was the best waking he'd had since he'd become Bucky again.

Actually, he was more than warm. He was hot. But relaxed. Damn relaxed, considering the gnawing need that had been eating at him since he'd come back to himself.

When Bucky's brain woke up enough to register the sounds of breathing on either side of him, the night came back in a rush. The night, dawn, and midmorning as well. Huh. He wondered what time it really was.

A vague memory surfaced of Steve, unfettered grin spreading across his face, making a phone call to Jane Foster and S.H.I.E.L.D to advise that Darcy, Bucky, and himself would be unavailable today. He cited "an incident at home' as to why, and assured everyone that the three of them were okay, but very tired.

Bucky finally peeled his eyes open, and blinked several times to clear the blurriness of sleep. No wonder he was hot. Darcy was pressed to his left side, head pillowed against his chest, dark hair fanned out across his skin. Her left leg was thrown over his, left arm stretched out over his abdomen, holding him down in case he tried to run he guessed.

Steve was pressed to his right side, head nestled on Bucky's right shoulder. His mouth was open and there was a line of drool trailing from his lips down over Bucky's chest. Steve's right arm was also stretched across Bucky's midsection, meeting Darcy's in the middle, fingers wrapped loosely around her wrist. Steve was half pinning him down, as if Bucky had tried to leave, or maybe Steve was just afraid that he would.

After months of keeping everyone at arm's length, pushing everyone away from his own personal darkness, this new closeness was a little overwhelming, but personally satisfying. It was cementing the part of him that was Bucky, taking him back to the days of Captain America and the Howling Commandos. They had been a close knit group out of necessity as they traveled across the continents, taking down Hydra base by base. Having that feeling again reminded Bucky of his lighter times.

An unexpected revelation during the night had caught him by surprise. The memories of his time as the Winter Soldier were dim, and not really at the forefront of his mind unless he focused on them, but sometimes one would bubble up and surprise him. Darcy had been taking a nap, hard pressed to keep up with the stamina of two super soldiers. Bucky was still coiled tight with amorous energy, as was Steve, so they had spent some time making out, learning how it felt. When Steve had expressed confusion over how things actually worked between two men (Darcy hadn't been able to talk him into watching videos, he had admitted with a flaming face), Bucky had given him a very graphic description.

He was providing an extremely detailed explanation, fingers of his flesh hand idly stroking along Steve's side, when he became aware of Steve's silent stare.

"What?"

His best friend had blinked at him in confusion. "Is there something about you that I didn't know? Because you didn't learn how things 'felt' by watching videos."

The memories had bubbled up in his head then. Apparently, the Winter Soldier had not hesitated to seduce either gender in the course of completing his missions. Bucky had flushed hard as those memories played through his head, and he lost a little time, coming back to Steve cupping his face in those big hands of his, calling his name.

When he'd hesitantly admitted that he had some experience, Steve's eyebrows had nearly flown away in surprise. Then, reverting to a much younger version of himself, he had asked some truly awkward questions. Bucky could see the curiosity practically eating Steve alive, and it promised interesting times ahead.

The amount of drool coming from Steve's mouth multiplied shortly before the super soldier woke with a soft, indrawn breath. Bucky waited, fighting back a smile as Steve took in the situation, and raised a hand to his mouth to wipe away the trail of drool. Then his ears reddened, and he pulled a corner of the bed sheet up to wipe the line of wetness from Bucky's chest.

"Thought you were too perfect to drool," Bucky murmured softly.

Steve's eyes flicked up to meet his. "C'mon jerk, you of all people should know better." He smiled then, at ease and relaxed in a way Bucky hadn't seen in a very long time, but felt for himself right now. "You look…um…relaxed."

Bucky grinned at him, real hand sliding up Steve's back to tug on his hair. "I feel relaxed," he assured. "I feel…complete."

Steve nodded at him, pulling back a little bit so he wasn't pinning Bucky down quite so much. "That's weird, because that was what I was going to say." One side of his mouth quirked up in that mischievous grin Bucky had always loved. "Unconventional, but undeniable."

"Ugh," Darcy grumbled from Bucky's other side. He looked down at her, and her eyes were still closed. "If you two are gonna get all mushy, I'm seriously gonna bite someone. I cannot handle mushy right now."

Bucky slid the metal arm around her shoulders and bent his head to press a kiss to the top of hers. "Why not, pumpkin?"

Eyes still closed, she opened her mouth and bit his pectoral. "I am exhausted. Seriously exhausted. One super soldier is bad enough. Two at the same time?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'm not a super soldier, pumpkin. Just a little enhanced."

She bit him again. "I'm tired, Barnes. Did you hear me? You and Steve wore me out. I'm like absolute jelly here." Her eyes hadn't opened yet.

"What flavor, sweetheart?" Steve asked, sharing a smirk with Bucky.

"Pomegranate," she sighed. Her hand twisted in Steve's loose grasp and fingers tugged at Bucky's treasure trail, sending a jolt of energy straight to his groin and pulling a groan from his mouth.

"Darce, if you're so exhausted, that's probably not something you should be doing right now," he warned softly. Her fingers were considering trekking lower, tapping thoughtfully on his stomach. She still hadn't opened her eyes.

He watched, bemused, as her fingers made grabby hands at Steve's fingers, and once she had hold of them, pulled them in a dancing little trek down his stomach. Things were about to get very interesting when Steve's Avenger alert sounded from the living room.

Darcy's eyes finally flew open. "You have got to be kidding me," she grumped.

Steve pressed his forehead to Bucky's chest with a frustrated sigh, and then pulled away. "Don't get out of bed on my account," he told them. "It's probably just Tony being nosy."

Bucky doubted that. He watched Steve hastily pull on a pair of sweats and then jog out toward the living room, butt swinging sweetly. He'd never allowed himself to notice it before, but Steve did have a fine backside.

When Steve was out of sight, Bucky blinked and looked down, only to find Darcy staring up at him with a shit-eating grin. "You were totally checking out his ass," she sang softly, eyes laughing at him.

Bucky shrugged. "You've seen it. It's a fantastic ass." He watched her fingers, tapping against his stomach again. Admittedly, it was a little odd to be cuddled naked in a bed together without Steve. The reality of Steve and Darcy had been so firm in his head, and being intimate with her while Steve wasn't there…

Darcy must have seen the look on his face. Her tapping stopped, and she reached up with that hand to cup his cheek. "Hey. Stop getting twitchy on me. We're together now. You and me and Steve. I'm not cheating on Steve by being here with just you. You're not betraying him. It's okay."

Bucky exhaled slowly and tried to relax. Every muscle had tensed in guilt. "It might take me a little time to adapt, Darce. I spent months being very careful to not steal my best friend's girl. The idea that it's approved now is a little strange."

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Don't get all weird about it, okay? Just talk to us! Not talking to us about what was bugging you made you leave us, and that wasn't good for any of us."

No. It hadn't been.

Darcy snuggled closer with a contented sigh. "Why did we struggle through all those months apart?"

Bucky snorted softly. "Because the idea of a threesome never occurred to any of us until Stark said something. I…I wouldn't have even entertained the idea. It's just not done."

Darcy laughed softly. "It wasn't talked about, back in your day, and it was certainly a lot rarer, but it happened. I guarantee it. And nowadays…well…it's not common, but it's not unheard of."

"Bucky!" Steve called from the living room.

The sharp tone had Bucky in motion instantly. He rolled across the bed and dropped smoothly to the floor, snatching up his sweatpants and stepping into them. Leaving Darcy complaining bitterly of superheroes and their priorities, he trotted out to the living room.

Steve was pacing with nervous energy. He grinned tightly when Bucky joined him, pointing to the tablet propped up on the coffee table, showing Stark's face.

"Hey Terminator," Stark greeted. "Geez, were you all asleep? It's three in the afternoon."

"Just trying out your schedule, Tony." Steve straightened. "Tell him."

The image of Stark smirked. "Found Pierce's super-secret, not-even-S.H.I.E.L.D-knows-about-it hideout. He's holed up in it currently. Thought maybe you might want to go say hi."

Bucky grinned tightly. "I would, yes. Since the man sees me as an embarrassment to S.H.I.E.L.D, and he's managed to freak out everyone I know, I think we should go say hi."

Steve nodded. "Suit up. And we're dropping Darcy off somewhere safe. Preferably with Clint and Natasha."

"Capsicle! I'm not safe anymore?"

Bucky tried to curb his smile. Poor Stark actually sounded hurt. "Your tech is neat, Stark, but apparently it's too well known if this Pierce guy can gain access to the Tower's science labs without being spotted." Bucky offered a grin. "Don't worry, Stark. I heard it happens to all men as they get older." He ignored Stark's spluttering protests and turned to wink at Steve.

"No offense, Tony. But right now, the Tower doesn't feel secure to me. Thanks for the info." He leaned over and tapped the tablet to turn it off, then turned to Bucky. "Uh…you can convince Darcy to get out of bed and get dressed."

Bucky wilted a little. "Thanks." He'd seen Darcy's tenacity at staying in bed in certain situations. She was not going to be happy with orders to get up and ready.

He was pleasantly surprised when he returned to the bedroom, and she was already shuffling around, pulling clothes out of dressers and the closet. "I want you to punch the bastard as hard as you can," she instructed. "He's interrupting our time. That's just not allowed."

Bucky smiled fondly. "I'm with ya, pumpkin. I'm gonna go suit up."

She grumbled and waved a dismissive hand at him. "Blah."

Steve was clearly a little frustrated when Bucky emerged from his room, suited up. How did the man manage to get into his uniform so quickly, anyway? Bucky had started before him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, securing his weapons. There were two long trench coats in the closet just for this situation, to cover their uniforms in case they had to suit up at home. Darcy's idea, actually. She'd been giggling madly the whole time while she suggested it.

Steve scowled. "Barton and Romanoff are not available. Thor is in Asgard. Bruce is in the Tower with Tony." He paced. "What do we do with Darcy?"

She emerged from the bathroom just then. "What do you mean, what do you do with me? What? Like I'm a pet or something?"

Bucky bit his lip as Steve rolled his eyes and tried to soothe her. "We want you to be safe, Darce. Here by yourself is not an option. The Tower isn't an option because it's already been compromised."

She shrugged. "So you think leaving me with Iron Man and the Hulk isn't safe?"

"The Tower isn't safe," Steve hedged. "I trust Tony and Bruce to keep you safe, but the Tower isn't, and I don't see them coming out of the Tower."

Bucky isn't unfamiliar with bad ideas. After all, he'd pretty much been the king of bad ideas back in the day. But the 'bad idea' look on Darcy's face just before she opened her mouth made him wonder what the hell he was getting himself into.

"Then I'll go with you."

Steve's mouth gaped open. "You'll…no! I want to keep you safe, Darce. Not put you into the line of fire."

She snorted at him. "I'll be with Captain America and the former Winter Soldier. How is that not safe?"

Bucky bit his lip. She wasn't wrong, and it did seem to be the best solution. But convincing Steve of that…

"Bucky? What do you think?"

Shit. Steve would put him on the spot. Bucky ran a hand through his hair with a wince. "I think she's right, Steve. Look. Stark and Banner know where we're going. Call in and notify that agent you trust so much too."

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "Coulson. He'd make good backup, if necessary."

Darcy bounced excitedly, clapping her hands together. It was so ridiculously cute that Bucky had to look away. "Do I get to suit up?" she squealed. "I have gear from Natasha, you know."

Judging by the look on Steve's face, he hadn't known. Bucky certainly hadn't known. He turned back to Darcy and shrugged, jerking his chin in the direction of the bedroom. "Go suit up then, pumpkin."

He watched her skip away and then turned back to Steve in trepidation. The captain did not look very happy, but he also didn't look like he was going to bite Bucky's head off. At the inquisitive look sent his way, he shrugged. "I can't imagine that Pierce can bring anything that you and I can't handle. We'll have an added incentive if Darcy is with us to keep her safe."

Bucky tilted his head. "You're being amazingly agreeable about this. I would have thought that you'd be biting my head off now."

Steve shrugged, averting his eyes with a little blush. "I feel pretty relaxed right now, Buck."

Bucky laughed. "You should after the night we had. Who knew?"

Steve shot him a look out of the corner of his eyes. "Who knew what?"

"That Captain America would mellow out after lots and lots of sex."

"Thanks Buck. You're as bad as Stark sometimes."

Darcy rejoined them in minutes. "I'm having trouble here, boys. Can you buckle me up?"

She did indeed have a S.H.I.E.L.D type tactical suit. Bucky could tell just by looking at it that it was reinforced, and had to silently thank Natasha. The redhead had to have figured that Darcy could come under fire at some point, what with dating Captain America and being roomies with the former Winter Soldier. There were a lot of people out there with reason to hate Bucky, and that was another scenario he and Steve had discussed at length.

Without comment, he assisted Steve in buckling Darcy into her gear. She was even wearing S.H.I.E.L.D issued boots.

"It's a little snug," she confessed nervously, twisting her hair into a knot at the base of her neck.

Steve finished the last buckle and ran his hands down Darcy's arms. "Because it's meant to withstand bullets and knives, sweetheart. I don't want to put that to the test, okay? We say 'run', you run, right?"

She stretched up and pressed a kiss to his mouth, and then pivoted to do the same to Bucky. "I'm not gonna try to be a hero," she assured.

She did have her own long coat for the occasion though, and laughed at all three of them when they were covered. "We look like a bad B movie cast," she complained. "C'mon. Let's go say hi to the asshole."

A cab seemed to be the least conspicuous form of transport, and this gave Steve a chuckle. "Stark would just have a fit if he saw this."

Since the three of them were crammed into the back of the cab, coats struggling to cover their uniform pants, it was a little funny. Steve had made a quick call to Agent Coulson before they left, as an added backup to Stark and Banner. He didn't want anything to go south.

When the cab pulled up in front of a ratty looking office building, the address given by Stark, Bucky shared a look with Steve. It didn't seem like a place the Pierce would frequent, but then again, who knew?

Steve had the cab move on another two blocks, and then they slid out. Bucky couldn't help but think that they looked terribly conspicuous in their long coats, but given the chill in the weather, he saw others dressed similarly. He felt exposed though, and wanted more intel before they went in.

"Go to the coffee shop on the corner," he ordered the other two. "I'm going to do some preliminary scouting."

Steve nodded, eyes admitting that his own observation skills couldn't match Bucky's. "Don't go it," he admonished.

"Be careful," Darcy seconded.

"I won't go in. I will be careful," he replied to both. Everyone was a little skittish, since their unconventional relationship was so new. He wasn't going to jeopardize that.

He walked away from them, pulling out his cell phone and pressing it to his ear, proceeding to have a loud unfocused 'conversation' with 'Natalie' as he circled the building, assassin trained eyes picking out all the details he needed. There was an office in the back with no views into it. The blinds were closed tightly, and there were blackout curtains behind the blinds. Based on the limited view he had into the rest of the building, no one even knew it was there, as it seemed to be behind a maintenance closet.

There was an outside entrance to it, he finally realized, from underneath the building. That would be their point of entrance as well.

He took a meandering course around a few blocks and back to Steve and Darcy, who were enjoying coffee as if all was well. Darcy pushed a cup his way, and Bucky slid into the unoccupied chair beside her. It wasn't his favorite flavor, but it would do in a pinch.

"Underground entrance, probably from the subway. I don't think anyone in the building knows it's there."

Steve's smile was grim. "Let's go say hello."

Bucky took the lead, heading toward the nearest subway entrance. His unerring sense of direction led him to a maintenance closet in the subway station. Making sure no one was looking, he swiftly opened the door and slid inside, followed by Darcy and Steve.

The staircase was cleverly concealed, with a pull down hatch for access to it. Darcy made impatient noises while Bucky circled it, eyes combing the hatch frame. He finally found it, a sensor that would undoubtedly send an alarm when the hatch opened. He dug into the ceiling and found the connecting wire. Hoping that the absence of a signal wouldn't send an alarm, he pulled the wire free of the sensor.

Outwardly nothing happened. Bucky shrugged at Steve, and pulled the hatch open as quietly as possible. He pulled the trench coat off and shook a knife out of its sheath under his arm. It was unspoken that he would go first. Of the two of them, he had far more experience than Steve in covert operations, plus the almost superhuman observations skills of a master assassin. Steve couldn't compete with that. He always let Bucky take point on missions where the details hadn't been filled in for them.

He eased his way onto the pull down ladder, wincing at the inevitable creaks. It was only a few steps up until he emerged in a dimly lit windowless room with no doors, dominated entirely by the cement staircase climbing up to where he knew the secret office to be. As far as Bucky could tell, it was camera free.

He leaned over and beckoned to Steve and Darcy. They joined him as quietly as possible and followed him up the cement staircase. It ended in a plain door. Bucky pressed his ear to it, and heard voices on the other side. He sheathed the knife and drew a gun, sparing a glance at Steve and Darcy. She looked a little frightened, but Steve still had his grim face on.

Bucky shrugged and popped the door open with his free hand, sliding through and taking aim with his gun. There were two people in the room. At a desk, what he'd suspected but now confirmed – Pierce was the suit who had visited him when he'd moved away from Steve and Darcy. The other person was standing off to one side, back to the door and hadn't yet turned. There was something off about the outline of that person, but Bucky was focused on Pierce.

As was Steve when he stepped through the door. "Mr. Pierce. We need to have a discussion about boundaries."

Pierce laced his fingers together on the desk and smiled. "Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Together again. How pleasant."

Bucky twitched. Something about the phrasing the man used was…familiar? "I'm not the Winter Soldier anymore," he reminded.

"On the contrary, Yasha." The other person in the room turned, and Bucky focused on him for the first time. On it. It was man shaped, with an artificial head, and a face on a display screen in the chest. A face out of Bucky's nightmares. He nearly dropped his gun.

"Zola."

The face grinned. "Ah. You remember. We had such fun times together through the years, Yasha. But you have become a hindrance to our plan."

Bucky felt himself fragmenting, a part of his psyche running to the deepest recesses of his brain with a howl of terror. Every instinct in his body told him to run, because next would come the needles, knives, chemicals and pain.

Steve stepped forward, placing himself between the nightmare figure and Bucky. Protecting him. "So. This is how you've survived the years."

"I've made improvements to myself," the Zola-thing told him smugly. "But my true masterpiece stands behind you. _Winter Soldier tiefe erholung zu initiieren._"

The words reverberated deep within Bucky and spread outward, pushing him away from himself. This is what he had feared. A deep trigger that could be activated by his creators. And there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it as the part of him that was Bucky was closed into a quiet dark corner of his mind. He felt his body slide the gun back into its holster, and stand at attention, ready to be used.

He watched Pierce stand. Darcy and Jarvis were right. There was something off about the man. His chilling smile was only the tip of the iceberg.

"Such a pity, Captain, that you trust so blindly. Did you truly think that a premiere assassin of his quality would so easily be deprogrammed?"

Bucky felt a small hand slip into one of his and tug. Trying to bring him back to himself, no doubt. But he was awaiting orders. The tiny little part of him that was still him was inside his head screaming, but it had no influence right now. Bucky waited for orders.

Steve's eyes seemed to go dead when he turned and saw Bucky, blank, ready to be programmed. His lips thinned and the rest of his face pulled into a furious scowl. He barked out "Darcy! Run!" and whipped back around quickly, one arm snatching the shield from his back and throwing it at Pierce. It happened so fast everything was a blur, and Pierce should have been on the floor.

Instead, he caught the shield with a hard smile. "My dear Captain, it is not polite to throw things."

The hand holding Bucky's tugged urgently, but Bucky was unable to respond. He was waiting for orders. The boxed off part of him howled at Darcy to run, like she'd promised, but she didn't, trying to bring him back.

"What are you?" Steve snarled at Pierce. He drew a gun, aiming it at Pierce's head.

"First you throw things, and now you point a gun at my head? That's hardly the way to treat an old acquaintance, Captain."

The waiting-to-be-programmed portion of Bucky's mind watched with clinical disinterest as Pierce sat the shield down on his desk, reached behind his head, and literally pulled his face off to reveal a familiar countenance.

"Schmidt!" Steve barked out in disbelief. "You died!"

The Red Skull smiled grimly. "No Captain. I just went elsewhere. That is what the Tesseract does, after all. It opens a doorway to space."

Bucky waited for orders.

Steve apparently tired of being nice, and squeezed off a shot at Schmidt's head. The man moved his head almost absently, bullet missing him completely, and picked up the shield, throwing it back with bruising force. Steve caught it, but lost the gun in the process. The Red Skull smiled again, eyes going to Bucky, waiting for orders, and then to Darcy, cowering behind Bucky, still poking and prodding at him.

"Zola."

The Zola thing smiled in undisguised glee. "Yasha. Kill her."

* * *

The translation is from the internet, so I hope it's right. It means: _Initiate Winter Soldier deep recovery. _Sorry for the cliffhanger ending. The chapter got much longer than I planned, so I had to break it up into two.


	13. Chapter 13

Dread started building in Steve's gut when Bucky identified the standing thing as Zola. He could see Bucky shrinking into himself, eyes going wide with remembered horrors, stepping back. He slid smoothly into place between Bucky and Zola, protecting his best friend. He wouldn't let Zola hurt him again.

"So. This is how you've survived the years," he realized.

The thing grinned at him and smugly told him that it had made improvements to itself. Then it identified that Bucky was his greatest success, and barked out an order in German.

Steve didn't want to look. He didn't want to look because he heard it happen. There was a slight pause, a hitch in the breathing and heartbeat of the man behind him. Then everything resumed, perfectly controlled. The slide of metal against leather told Steve that Bucky had just holstered his gun.

He didn't want to look. He didn't want to see the absence of his best friend who had been lost to him for years and only recently recovered. A best friend who was part of him, part of a stabilizing bond that kept Steve Rogers whole.

Pierce stood, haughty in his triumph. "Such a pity, Captain, that you trust so blindly. Did you truly think that a premiere assassin of his quality would so easily be deprogrammed?"

Steve wanted to rip the smug expression right from the man's stiff face. Pierce didn't look or act like a man whose plans had been thwarted multiple times. He looked like what he wanted had come right to him.

He could hear Darcy's frightened and sorrowful gasps for air, and quiet, urgent murmurs to Bucky to 'snap out of it'. He turned slowly, still not wanting to look, but knowing he had to. He had to see if there was anything of Bucky left.

Bile rose in his throat and tears prickled his eyes. Bucky had been erased. The man that stood there, arms hanging loosely at his sides, was blank. Awaiting orders. Everything about him that made him Bucky was gone. It opened up a rush of fury and loss deep inside of Steve, and every negative emotion he'd ever suppressed was right there, bitter on his tongue and needing release.

He scowled furiously, snatching the shield from his back, shouting for Darcy to run. Then he whipped the shield as hard and fast as he could at Pierce's body. He wanted to hurt the man. He wanted the man to feel pain like Steve himself felt right now. He wanted splatters of Pierce all over the room, because that might make him feel better.

Impossibly, Pierce caught the shield in his hands. It was impossible, because no normal human had reaction speed like that. Or bone structure like that, because as hard as Steve had thrown the shield, it should have gone through Pierce's hands. At the very least, bones should have shattered. Instead, the man caught it, smiled a cold smile, and tsked at Steve. "My dear Captain, it is not polite to throw things."

He heard Darcy in the background, still talking to Bucky, not running like she'd promised to do. And Steve wasn't even sure if he had believed her when she said she would run, but he hadn't vetoed the idea like he should have. He'd been swimming in a pleasant haze of finally feeling complete, and his normal edge had been worn away. How could he have possibly agreed to allow her to come with them? And then to arrive here and find out how completely unprepared they were to face Pierce and what he could do.

Steve was done even trying to play nice. He drew his gun, pointing it right at Pierce's head. "What are you?" he snarled. He had to keep attention on himself and away from Bucky or Darcy. He wasn't going to give up the hope that Bucky was still in there, somewhere, and could be recovered. And Darcy had to be kept safe. Just long enough for Steve to get some answers and incapacitate his enemies.

"First you throw things, and now you point a gun at my head? That's hardly the way to treat an old acquaintance, Captain."

Steve frowned. He didn't know Pierce. Something inside of him felt like he should know the man, especially in relation to his association with Zola, but the face was not one that was familiar to him.

He watched Pierce lay the shield down on the desk, and then reach up behind his head. Steve tracked every movement with his gun, wondering what the man was doing. The movement was familiar, sparking a memory of something that happened long ago, but Steve couldn't quite grasp on to that memory. It remained just out of reach.

Then, as Pierce literally pulled his face off, everything clicked into place for Steve.

"Schmidt! But you died!"

The irony of that statement didn't escape Steve. He had died too, technically, and so had Bucky. But they were here, and now Schmidt was too. He watched the Red Skull smile grimly.

"No Captain. I just went elsewhere. That is what the Tesseract does, after all. It opens a doorway to space."

Steve wasn't hesitating this time. He squeezed a shot off at Schmidt's head, wanting to end it this time, but the man only snapped his head out of the way. He picked up the shield and hurled it back with devastating force. Steve caught it, but dropped his gun in the process, eliciting a worried noise from Darcy, who still hadn't run. When this was over, he was going to give her the dressing down of her life. She needed to listen, dammit!

Schmidt smiled, eyes flicking to the programmable assassin standing behind Steve, and then to the young woman trying to rouse Bucky out of the blank state he was in. Steve flinched at the cold glee in Schmidt's eyes, wondering what was coming next, and how he could stop it.

"Zola," Schmidt ordered. He said nothing else.

The Zola thing smiled in unfettered joy. "Yasha. Kill her."

"No!" Steve whirled, shield dropping from his hands, and clamped his arms around Bucky's body, trapping his arms at his sides. The assassin had already started to turn, hand reaching for his gun, but when Steve pinned him, he went crazy.

"Get out of here now!" he shouted to Darcy, struggling to hold Bucky's hand away from his gun.

He heard a low laugh from Schmidt, followed by the clank of the door closing behind them, bolts sliding into place. Darcy was trapped now. There would be no escape.

Pain blossomed in Steve's face as Bucky threw his head back, breaking Steve's nose with a violent crack. He dimly heard Darcy crying out for Bucky to stop, but could only focus on holding his best friend. If he failed, he failed them all. Bucky, if any part of him remained, wouldn't survive if he seriously hurt or killed Steve or Darcy. Steve didn't think he himself would survive without either of them. He couldn't let go.

"C'mon Buck," he urged. "You're stronger than this.

He felt the arms muscles of Bucky's right arm flexing and straining, but that one was easy to hold down. It was the damned metal arm that was slowly breaking his hold, fingers inching closer to the holstered gun.

Steve peered around Bucky's shoulder, sharing a look with Darcy. She was scared, eyes wide, watching the struggle between her two men. It wasn't fair, Steve thought dimly. They had just come together last night, the three of them, and already they were in mortal danger. It was his fault that Darcy was endangered, though. He never should have let her come with them.

"I don't think I can hold him," he admitted to Darcy in a strained voice, muscles burning with the effort of holding the metal arm down.

She stepped forward, hands reaching up to cup Bucky's face, ignoring the snarl he directed at her. "Steve's right, Bucky. You are stronger than this. I refuse to believe that you're not in there somewhere."

Steve wanted to believe that. He really did, because if he'd lost Bucky again…

"C'mon jerk," he whispered. "Please."

"Let me go," the voice that wasn't really Bucky's hissed. "I'll make it quick for her."

Darcy gasped a little, then leaned forward, sliding her arms around Bucky's torso as far as she could reach. It was a strange echo of how they had woken up together today, and Steve almost wanted to cry.

"I gotta try to knock him out, Darce," he whispered softly, hoping Pierce and Zola took no action. He couldn't spare any thought for them right now.

The metal arm moved another half inch. The fingers were almost on the gun.

"Gotta move back, Darcy," Steve instructed. If he threw Bucky at the wall hard enough, or maybe the door, it might knock him out.

He felt Darcy's arms squeeze Bucky's torso, and then she moved back. There were tears tracking down her cheeks and it was like a punch to Steve's stomach. Her eyes were focused on Bucky's face.

"If this goes badly, Buck, just remember it's not your fault," she said in a wavering voice. "Not your fault. We love you."

Steve felt a shudder run through the body he held, and it gave him a glimmer of hope. But then his shield crashed into his side, sweeping him away from Bucky and Darcy with the snap of broken ribs. Steve dimly heard Schmidt's hard laughter as he crashed into a wall and fell to the floor. A foot came down on his throat firmly, but Steve couldn't be bothered. His eyes snapped to Bucky, pulling the gun from its holster, and Darcy shaking and crying in front of him.

"It's not your fault, Bucky," she choked out again, tears streaming from her eyes now. She shared a sorrowful look with Steve and swallowed hard as the gun lifted to point at her head. "Not your fault. We love you."

Steve, sight growing dim from lack of oxygen, tried to remove the foot from his throat, but Schmidt was practically anchored in place, bearing down on him with a maniacal grin.

"Finish it!" the Zola thing snapped.

A roar of rage. A scream. A gunshot. Steve's heart started breaking because he had failed. Failed to save either one of them and ensured his own damnation in the process. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Air rushed back into his lungs as the pressure on his throat disappeared. Steve heard the thunk of a body hitting the floor, but he couldn't look. He didn't want to see Darcy dead. He didn't want to see the moment when Bucky killed him. He couldn't bear the thought of possibly catching a glimmer of his best friend in those cold eyes, knowing that he'd failed him.

So many regrets. He should have left Darcy with Tony and Bruce. He should have had Tony come along as backup. But he'd been basking in the afterglow of the night, and he'd been convinced that he and Bucky could handle anything that Pierce brought against them. He hadn't even entertained the possibility of something turning Bucky back into the Winter Soldier, or of Pierce being anything more than a power-hungry man.

Hands patted his cheeks. Hands that felt like Darcy's hands. "Can you breathe? I don't think he can breathe. Steve?"

He pried his eyes open in disbelief. Darcy's tear stained face hovered over him. How? Then beside her face, Bucky's. He looked like hell, strained and worn, but it was definitely Bucky.

"Steve? Can you breathe?"

Steve took a big breath, wincing at the pain in his face, throat and ribs. He nodded. "What…what happened?" he croaked out. It would take some time for the abused throat to recover.

Bucky's metal arm slipped under his shoulders and helped him sit up. Steve blinked, looking at the body on the floor. Schmidt. Blood was spreading in a pool under the Red Skull.

"Buck?" he asked shakily.

"Mostly," Bucky answered hoarsely. "Feels like my brain is on fire, but I beat it. Couldn't take the tears." He looked years older than he had last night, and there was a darkness in his eyes that would probably take days or weeks to go away. As long as he didn't run.

Darcy's head leaned over to press against Bucky's, and they both pressed into Steve. He reveled in it, wanting to close his eyes, but also wanting to keep an eye on the Zola thing. It seemed incapacitated right now, staring down at the body on the floor in shock. Steve dragged the phone from his belt to make a call to Stark. Calling in the cavalry.

Darcy edged away from them both for a second to recover Steve's gun and shield, and then sidled back into place beside them. She pressed herself to Bucky's side, frowning when he tried to pull away, and reached out to tap him on the nose like a wayward animal.

"You don't get to do that again, Buck."

Steve watched him shudder. "I almost killed you, Pumpkin. I was…I hurt Steve."

She latched onto his arm. "But you didn't kill me. And Steve's fine. You only broke his nose. That's happened before. He'll recover from that in an hour or so. Right Steve?"

"I'm fine," he assured. "Schmidt hurt me more." He reached out to curl his fingers around Bucky's other arm. "Darcy's right, jerk. Don't pull away from us. You beat it."

Caged in by the two people he loved, Bucky shook again. "It was so close, Steve." He bowed his head, hair falling forward to hide his face. "So close."

Steve looked on in worry as Bucky swayed. Worry morphed into fear when droplets of blood began falling from Bucky's nose. "Buck?"

"Head hurts a lot," his best friend complained. "Feels like my brain is moving around inside of it."

Darcy stood up and walked over to the Zola thing, pointing Steve's gun at its face. "What's going on?" she demanded. Steve was impressed. Darcy was holding the gun like she knew how to use it. He didn't know she had any experience with guns, but she looked very confident right now. In fact…he'd seen that stance before. It seemed Natasha had been giving Darcy some gun lessons on the sly, as well as supplying her with tactical clothing.

The Zola thing bought into her intimidation, shrinking back against the desk behind it. "He broke through the deepest trigger. It is likely that his brain is hemorrhaging right now."

Darcy practically snarled. "What does that mean?"

"He will be in a lot of pain while his brain repairs itself. If he did not have the serum, he would suffer permanent brain damage."

"Can we do anything to make it easier for him?"

"No. Anything you do could upset the balance of repair."

Steve forced himself to move, shifting until his back was against the wall. Then he reached out and pulled Bucky back against him. Bucky resisted for a moment, muscles tensed, but then he relaxed, head lolling back onto Steve's shoulder and rolling to one side so that the blood still dripping from his nose ran down Steve's chest.

Darcy backed across the room, gun still trained on Zola, and slowly slid down the wall beside Steve. He reached out to take the gun from her, but she shook her head. "I got this."

He tried to remember that he was mad at her for not running like she'd promised, and he was sure it would come up later, but right now, he was grateful that she was channeling Natasha. He was hurting physically, and still trying to deal with the emotional backlash of those few seconds where he thought Bucky had killed her. Then to see Bucky suffering his own physical backlash…Steve didn't have the energy to be Captain America right now.

The welcome sound of the Iron Man repulsors allowed Steve to relax a little more. Tony irritated the hell out of him on the best days, but he was good at this part. The coming-to-the-rescue part.

The outside wall bulged inwards and then imploded softly. Iron Man hovered in the opening, and then dropped to the ground with a clank. He brought backup, Steve could see, as Bruce separated from the Iron Man suit cautiously, tensed and ready for action if necessary.

"This is different." The Iron Man faceplate flipped up and Tony took in the scene. "Spangles and Terminator are down for the count, and Kick Ass is holding a gun. I'm a little scared."

"You should be," Darcy told him dryly. "Bruce, glad you're here too. This…thing is making me nervous, and so is the body on the floor. With the track record of serum infused people not really dying or coming back to life, I'm not really trusting that he's dead."

Tony walked closer and looked down. "Holy shit! Is that the Red Skull? Didn't he die, Capsicle?"

"Apparently not," Steve told him. "The Tesseract sent him somewhere else. I saw him dissolve into light; assumed he was dead. Aliens and space travel weren't in my reality then."

Tony scratched at his head. "Was that Pierce? Pierce was the Red Skull? The Red Skull infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D? Oh that's rich. One-eye is not gonna be happy about that!"

Steve sighed. "Tony. Can you radio S.H.I.E.L.D? They need to take Zola into custody." He spared a glance for the body on the floor, hearing Darcy's words echo in his head. "And the body. Because I'm with Darcy. I don't trust that he's really dead."

Tony was practically bouncing in glee as he contacted S.H.I.E.L.D. Steve rolled his eyes. Let Fury deal with it. He only wanted to get home, to be with his new relationship dynamic. To celebrate the fact that the person who'd been trying to acquire Bucky wouldn't do so anymore. Hell, they needed to celebrate that they were all still alive!

Bucky groaned against his neck, blood still dripping.

"Steve?" Bruce crossed the room, deftly avoiding the body, and knelt by Steve's side. "What's wrong? What happened to you two? What can I do?"

Steve smiled wearily. "It has to run its course, Bruce. For both of us. Bucky is just going to have a terrible headache. His brain got a little shredded."

"Feels like there's an ice pick in my head," Bucky complained in a strained voice.

Darcy placed a hand on his shoulder, flicking the safety on the gun and tucking it into her belt with her other hand. "At least there's not a trigger in there anymore."

Steve smothered a smile. She always knew the best way to look at things. That's why she was so good for both of them. She was the ever burning light in the darkness that made up most of their lives. If not for her, well, he wasn't sure if Bucky would have overcome his programming. Either time.

Apparently, finding out that a retired S.H.I.E.L.D agent/current World Security Council member was actually the Red Skull in disguise put Nick Fury in a very bad mood. Steve heard the director arrive. He was pretty sure everyone in a three block radius heard Nick Fury arrive.

Bucky flinched against him, still slumped against Steve's chest. The blood drip had slowed, thankfully, but he still seemed to be in terrible pain and the angry shouting of the director was likely hurting his head.

Steve lifted his chin, jaw clenched. "Bruce. Can you ask the director to lower his voice please? His volume is hurting Bucky's head."

Bruce offered a crooked smile, and moved to the hole in the wall. Steve heard him quietly ask Nick Fury to lower his volume. The director shouted in return, and Steve wanted to cheer when Bruce straightened from his usual slump and calmly advised the director that angry shouting made him nervous. Quite suddenly, only the sounds of the city could be heard. Nick Fury didn't want the Hulk to make an appearance, it seemed.

The director clumped into the room, eye darting around to take in the situation. "Would somebody please tell me what the hell happened here?"

Steve opened his mouth, but Darcy beat him to it, standing up to face Nick Fury. "Well Director, Captain Rogers received a tip about a secret hideaway that Pierce was using. He decided to check it out, after the Tower invasion the other day. Sergeant Barnes and I accompanied him. Sergeant Barnes identified this secret room, and located an entrance from the subway tunnel. We found a little bit more than we expected though. As you can see, Pierce was actually the Red Skull, and he was in cahoots with his old buddy Zola over there, who apparently had a big role in creating the Winter Soldier. Zola activated a deep trigger to reinstate the Winter Soldier personality, and ordered Sergeant Barnes to kill me. The sergeant was able to overcome that programming and break through the trigger. He put a bullet in the Red Skull's head, and now his brain is repairing itself."

Steve had to hide a smile as Darcy cocked a hip saucily, silently daring Nick Fury to mess with her.

"Cap?"

"What she said," Steve agreed wearily. "All we want to do right now, Director, is go home. There were a few very tense minutes."

Stark was practically bouncing in his suit at the drama. "I can have a car take you home," he offered.

Steve knew that the offer was made mostly to piss off Fury, but he was too tired to be annoyed with Tony. "I'd appreciate that, Tony."

He filed the brief look of surprise on Stark's face, followed by an oddly honest smile, away in his head to think about later. Right now, he just wanted to be home.

Nick Fury tilted his head to one side, taking in the sad shape of Bucky still slumped against Steve. "Maybe he should see Medical first?"

Steve wasn't keen on that idea, but he also didn't want Bucky to suffer any permanent brain damage, and he didn't really trust Zola to be telling the truth. He turned to Stark. "Can your car take us to S.H.I.E.L.D first?"

Tony took a long look at Bucky before nodding. "Yeah. Probably a good idea. I'd offer my own doctors, but I think they're a little out of their depth when it comes to brainwashing."

True. Steve couldn't argue that. With only a little reluctance, he allowed Tony to pull him and Bucky to their feet. Bucky swayed quite a bit on the walk out to the car Tony had called. Tony himself was flying back to the Tower, but Bruce decided to ride in the car. As security he admitted once in the car. Because he wasn't sure that there weren't factions of S.H.I.E.L.D agents loyal to Pierce out there, and if there were, they would probably be less likely to try anything with the Hulk in attendance.

Steve was very grateful. He felt drained and just wanted to be Steve Rogers right now, not Captain America, so he was grateful to have Bruce as a watchdog.

Hours later, S.H.I.E.L.D medical cleared Bucky to leave. They had watched the hemorrhage in his brain literally heal itself, so had no reason to keep him. He would probably have a headache for hours, but it would pass. Brainwashing specialists, given the information from what had happened, advised that testing would need to be done in a few days to confirm that the deep trigger was gone.

Darcy was tired and cranky when Stark's car delivered them home, but ordered both men to the bathroom, where all three stripped and slipped into the shower. It was a little crowded but very comforting in a way, after the draining emotions of the evening. Bucky was almost asleep on his feet. Darcy took care of washing him while Steve kept him upright. When she massaged his scalp while washing his hair, Bucky went boneless and nearly slipped through Steve's arms. Steve tightened his grip at the last minute, barely keeping him upright, and once Darcy had rinsed his hair, they wrestled Bucky out of the shower and into a towel.

Bucky was going to curl up on the floor of the bathroom, based on his lack of response to Steve's prodding to 'stand up', but Darcy shamed him into dragging his sorry ass to the bedroom. "Steve is totally going to bridal carry you to bed if you don't get up," she told him, sharing a tired smile with Steve. He loved it that was she still staying saucy for them, even though she'd been through a lot too.

They managed to get Bucky dry and into sweatpants, and he staggered between them to the bedroom. He made a token resistance at first, mumbling a protest that he'd tried to kill Darcy earlier, but Darcy and Steve both just pressed him down into the bed and snuggled into either side.

Steve reached across Bucky's stomach and laced his fingers through Darcy's. Bucky had fallen asleep almost as soon as he had hit the bed, and Darcy wasn't far behind, based on her drooping eyes.

"Helluva first day of a new relationship," she muttered with an exhausted smile, squeezing Steve's fingers tight.

He squeezed back. "At least we can relax a little now. One shadowy enemy from the past down and out of the way." Then he remembered that he was mad at her. "You broke your promise, Darce. You were supposed to run when we told you to."

She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry. But I couldn't leave Bucky like that. It hurt too much."

Steve couldn't say anything to that. It had hurt too much. It had been like losing Bucky all over again and for a few terrible minutes, he'd felt that crushing loss. So he could understand why Darcy had stayed.

"Worth fighting for," she murmured softly, voice on the edge of sleep. "This. Us. Worth it."

Steve took a long moment to look at them both. Bucky looked much better than he had earlier, although there were still lines of pain on his sleeping face. Darcy was smiling, cheek pressed to Bucky's chest. Darcy was right. This was worth fighting for. He pillowed his head on Bucky's shoulder and closed his eyes, finally allowing sleep to take him.

* * *

Well gang, this is it. I hope you all enjoyed the journey. It was a blast to write. I'm looking forward to more stories once Captain America: the Winter Soldier comes out! I'd love to see more of this threesome, and more Darcy/Steve and Darcy/Bucky.

Thanks again to the wonderful jadzia_bear and her story "Some Nights", which first introduced me to an OT3 I never even imagined I wanted.


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